Just a few quick thoughts on spiritual seeking. It seems to me there are two kinds of seekers: those seeking the big, exciting, exotic experience and those who throw in for the long haul.

Students who are new to meditation frequently say, “I must be doing something wrong. Nothing is happening.” What they are really saying is, “Meditation is hard and sometimes boring and I’d like a little excitement.” So many people think that it’s not spiritual if they don’t have a powerful, knock-you-off-your-feet kind of experience. They want bliss. They want colorful visions. They want cosmic fireworks. They want spiritual bling.

They are looking for something really, really different from their normal state of mind and believe that the more different and unusual the experience, the better it is. In our culture, we tend to believe we should never be uncomfortable and never-ever be bored.

Those of us who meditate may well have powerful experiences from time to time and those can be very encouraging. But more often than not. . . we simply sit. And that’s just fine. In fact, it’s crucial that we don’t chase after the spiritual bling. We can’t seek the powerful and exotic experience and judge ourselves deficient if we don’t have them.

A venerable Buddhist teacher by the name of Master Hsu-Yun (aka: Empty Cloud) said, “[A beginner] should seek neither hope for awakening nor seek wisdom. In training, one should be earnest . . . and develop a long-enduring mind.”

A long-enduring mind.

A mind of patience with our experience - whatever it may be. When we chase after an exciting spiritual event, we warp and distort the process. I once told my teacher, Ven. Shih Ying-Fa, that I thought I was going through a dry spell in my practice cuz I judged that nothing was happening. He said, “Can’t you just trust the practice to do it’s work?”

Whatever our faith tradition is — can we trust its wisdom? Can we let go of our desire to decide what our spiritual trajectory should be? Can we do without the bling?

Be well.

I attended a Lay Precepts ceremony at CloudWater Zendo in Cleveland earlier this week. Three bright, shiny 30-Somethings had just finished an eight week class on the Basics of Buddhism and had decided to formally commit to practicing the teachings of the Buddha. Cool ceremony. Good reminder for the assembled monks and regular practitioners of what we are supposed to be all about. Good cake afterwards!

One of the vows taken by these Buddhist newbies says, “I vow not to abuse intoxicants and other substances harmful to myself and others.” No, we don’t have to promise to abstain from alcohol and drugs, but we do make an ongoing commitment to be extremely vigilant in their use. You see, for Buddhists, it’s a mindfulness thing. Anything that messes with keeping a clear mind is to be carefully avoided. And since alcohol and drugs have a slick way of doing just that, we try to be careful about their use. If you take this seriously, vowing not to abuse intoxicants is not the loosey-goosey, wink-wink kind of promise that it might seem like on the surface. Tricky stuff for many.

And guess what. . . it’s not just too much Budweiser or that leftover Vicodin Rx that can steal vigilance away from the actions of our body, speech and mind. I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a long list of Mindfulness Moochers. Here are just a few:

Food:   Of course. How easy is it to turn to brownies, spoonfuls of peanut butter and those darling little cartons of Ben and Jerry’s to fuzz out from the cares of the day? Tell me you don’t ….

My Computer:   Diversions galore! What’s the record for number of times email has been checked in one day? I’ve graduated from Solitaire and Free Cell to those insidious PopCap games. Zuma, Big Money and Book Worm are the current culprits. I treat my MacBook like spoiled child or pampered pet.

TV:   Right now, I’m obsessed with the Cavs and Charles Barkley. What fresh hell will happen defensively in the 3rd quarter? What outrageous remark will cause Sir Charles’ TNT deskmates to sputter and quickly try to change the subject?

Cheezy mystery novels:   I almost side-stepped this one. I like to carry around the New York Times Book Review and make out like I’m a literary highbrow, but I have some shamefully lowbrow favorites. I am often awaiting the latest Robert B. Parker offering. (Have you seen so much large print and white space since you read The Weekly Reader in 5th grade?)

None of these things are inherently bad. And it’s not just gaining weight or wasting time when I could be cleaning the house or eliminating world hunger that’s at stake here. I find I must be constantly aware that these things don’t schmooze me out of my vow to constantly guard my mind against deluded behavior. Overindulgence in these Mindfulness Moochers keeps me from opening to the Buddha Nature of all things.

I can also use so-called virtuous pursuits like reading Sutras (Buddhist scriptures) and even certain forms of meditation to look away from the true nature of experience. The ego mind is so crafty and subtle that it can pervert even our best-intentioned actions to take us out of mindfulness. So it’s an ongoing, ruthlessly honest vigilance that is required to keep our mind clear and free of intoxicants.

What are your favorite intoxicants? Whatever your spiritual persuasion, they bear close scrutiny lest they keep us from what we’re all about.

Be happy and well!

Not the most enticing title, eh? But I’ve been thinking about roadkill a lot lately. I had a close encounter with a buzzard a couple of weeks ago. Driving up Federal Avenue I became aware of a shockingly large black bird standing smack in the middle of the street. He was guarding a flattened chipmunk that he obviously considered quite a prize. He cocked his red wattle at my Taurus and gave me a menacing glare. He seemingly dared me to come any closer. In the stare-down that ensued I clicked into a visceral understanding that what turns our stomachs is vital nutrition for another sentient being. And I felt some happiness that his. . . how shall we say. . . deteriorating treat would contribute to his well-being.

Buddhists think a lot about sentient beings. It is our wish that ALL beings be happy and well, not just the two legged beings who think and look and dress and have the same politics as we do, but ALL beings. If you don’t think you can cozy up to my buzzard-friend enjoying his lunch in the street, you may wish to try this classic Buddhist method for cultivating the intention of well-being for ALL sentient beings.

Think first of your family, significant other, your close friends and your cherished pets. Sit quietly and generate really strong, specific intentions that they have a wonderful life. Not too tough, is it?

Now, call up mental images of just random people and animals - those with whom you have no emotional connection, like the kid behind the counter at Dunkin Donuts or the sparrows that frequent your backyard. May they be happy and always have the causes of happiness. OK, I don’t know them, but I don’t hate them and I don’t wish bad stuff on any creature, right? I’m one of the good guys, right?

OK then, here’s where it gets a little dicier. Imagine at least one person and one animal that you find difficult. We can all come up with a co-worker who gets on our nerves. That loudmouth lout in the back office who mooches all the donuts in the breakroom and tries to shovel half his work off on you. And we’ve all had experience with the yappy little dog next door or an infestation of mice in the closet. Wish for all of them a life filled with peacefulness, good health and prosperity. Yep. Consider that they are feeling beings, just like you and your family and friends. They suffer, have troubles and fears, and struggle with many life issues. May they be happy and peaceful.

Keep pushing the envelope here. Bring to mind your worst enemy. A relative or co-worker who did you dirty. A politician or talking head on TV whose views make your skin crawl. A heinous criminal who committed unspeakable acts. Bring them up close in your imagination. . . and wish every good thing for them. And while you’re at it, conjure up my buzzard-friend munching on that poor, cute little chipmunk. May they all be happy, safe and protected.

I’m not saying we tolerate criminal acts or refrain from doing something about a health hazard in the form of vermin, but can we hold with equanimity a compassionate attitude toward ALL sentient beings? Can we at least imagine that they suffer just like we do? Or do we want to wall off and keep certain beings separate from us? Are we really separate from them? Maybe they are just another version of ourselves under different circumstances. Anyway, Buddhists are encouraged to deeply explore the interconnectedness of ALL beings.

If you’re surfing The Review over breakfast right now, hope I haven’t put you off your Cheerios with talk of buzzard bait and cheezy co-workers.

May all beings be happy, safe and prosperous and may they attain the highest perfect Enlightenment with little difficulty! You included!

You never know where you might hear some words of wisdom. I clicked into something of a fresher vision of what Buddhist practice effects over a plate of tabouli, hummus and homemade Russian tea rolls last Sunday. A vegetarian potluck is held on the third Sunday of the month at CloudWater Zendo after the traditional Sunday service. One can work up an appetite after 50 minutes of chanting sutras and dharanis in syllabized, sino-sized Sanskrit. (translation: the syllables are Sanskrit as it would be heard by the Chinese ear, but written in English letters. Got that?) ) We think of chanting as vocalized meditation, so while none of us is literate in Sanskrit, we are nevertheless engaged a form of meditation that sharpens our concentration and focus and, at the same time, connects us with ancient Buddhist wisdom on a very deep level. The chanting is followed up by 30 minutes of silent, seated meditation and a talk from the Abbot. By then, we’re suitably energized and ready to sample the goodies prepared by our fellow practitioners.

While lingering over the last of the fruit and cookies, our conversation turned to how practicing Buddhism has made changes in our lives. My friends told stories about their personal experiences and a theme began to emerge. We all agreed that this practice has simplified our lives on many levels. Person after person had noticed how the desire to accumulate stuff had lightened over the years. The decades in our 20’s, 30’s and 40’s seem to be years of acquisition in this society. The piling up of clothes, gadgets and trinkets is seen as demonstration of our success. The folks gathered in the Zendo social hall spoke about an increasing lifting of the desire to accumulate and a move toward simplifying and streamlining in areas of dress, home decor, acquisition of so-called time-saving appliances, etc. Not too many Zen practitioners feel the need to pick up the phone at 1:00 a.m. and order that Bow-Flex machine. Everyone spoke about their homes becoming increasingly free of bric-brac and chochkies.

And this is also an expression of what is happening at the moment-to-moment level of mind as our meditation practice matures. If you have done any reading about meditation, you have probably come across the term “Monkey Mind.” Everyone seems to find this phrase really descriptive of how our mind jumps from thought to thought, emotion to emotion - never settling, seemingly beyond our control. A thought comes up and we attach to it and begin embroidering more thoughts around that. Then we have an emotional reaction to the stuff we’re thinking about, so we have to examine and worry about that. We’re flitting all over the jungle of our mind. Beginning meditation practice helps us calm that monkey. Not so much swinging from branch to branch. Mind becomes simpler. More serenity and spaciousness of mind is an outflow of consistent meditation practice as we learn that we don’t have to be held hostage to our thoughts. A thought arises, comes into awareness and, if we keep our sticky fingers off it, it passes away. Meditation helps us see the impermanence of our thoughts and emotions. They just come and go. It also helps us see the gaps when mind is wide open. And in those gaps, not layered over with thought and emotion, we can begin to investigate Buddha Mind.

My friends and fellow-diners at the vegetarian potluck spoke of less attachment to the conventional signifiers of success in this culture. As the mind simplifies, we move in greater simplicity and spaciousness in the world. Now, I must say, my mind is still sort of attached to the thought of those fluffy, soft Russian tea rolls with the sweet fruit filling. And so practice continues.

Be well.

A funny thing happened while on a contemplative walk . . .

The last Sunday of every month, Zen practitioners at CloudWater Zendo in Cleveland go for a walk instead of holding regular services. On most Sundays, we have a 50 minute chanting service, a 30 minute period of silent,seated meditation and a Dharma talk. Business as usual for us. This year, the Abbot instituted outdoor meditative walking once a month to shake things up a bit . . . as he is wont to do. It’s one thing to sit on a cushion in an intensely still and silent, incense-filled room and meditate. It’s a whole other deal to meditate while walking on city streets. Traffic, barking dogs, weed-whacking, garden gnomes and political signs all compete for our attention while we practice mindfulness in motion. It’s important to carry meditative mind off the cushion and into daily life. Meditative walking leads us that direction.

We walk single file down the sidewalks and around parks in the general neighborhood of the Zendo following the Abbot who carries a tall bamboo pole.(A nod to the Chinese teaching tradition) In warm weather, the monks dress in our orange and brown robes. And, yes, we get noticed. For some reason, certain people feel compelled to honk at us. Teenagers hang out car windows and wave or give the peace sign. One local wag yelled, “Hey, Swami!” down the block as we filed past. Aside from learning how to deal with distraction while meditating, these events are quite effective for lowering the ego.

Last Sunday, we were stopped by the police. I was bringing up the rear of our line of seven walkers. We had been assigned to contemplate the suffering of all beings. I noticed a police cruiser slowly following us for about a half block, so I smiled and waved at the cops. They sped up and drove on. Minutes later, the Abbot gathered us around for a brief discussion of our experience and to give instructions for our next contemplation. The same black and white cruiser pulled up to the curb and informed us that they had received complaints from the neighborhood folks! The officer asked questions about what we were doing and wrote down the Abbot’s name. The cop reiterated that the neighbors were concerned about what we might be up to and pulled away. We weren’t asked to stop what we were doing, but were made to know that we were making people nervous. You’ve heard of being arrested for DWB?(”Driving While Black”) The Abbot quipped that we were pulled over for WWB.(”Walking While Buddhist”)

It appears that, while we were contemplating the suffering of all beings, someone in the neighborhood was suffering from fear of the unknown. We are certainly not a menacing bunch, but we are not what our concerned citizen is used to — therefore, we are to be feared? Outside of the comfort zone we carefully construct for ourselves, stuff happens that we don’t understand and that scares us. Our carefully practiced defense mechanisms kick in and, instead of simply opening to experience what’s going on, we scramble to manipulate the situation until we are comfortable again. We shut down, pull away, seek what seems like protection. Or we push back, call names and get aggressive. I’m not suggesting we chant “Om” until the cat burglar is in our silverware drawer, but we may benefit from noticing how we are always rearranging the situation to suit our need for comfort.

When the police cruiser pulled away, the Abbot gave us our final contemplation of the morning. We were asked to meditate on the enlightened nature of all beings. We are all Buddhas. Our friend nervously peeking out from behind the curtain and punching the number of the local police into their cellphone . . . is a Buddha. We have packed a ball of mud around the bright jewel of our Buddha Nature. And we spend a lot of time examining the mud instead of appreciating the magnificent clarity of the true nature of all things. What does it take to get us to see that jewel?

May all beings be free from suffering and the causes of suffering!

So - a Buddhist monk in Alliance? I promised I would talk a bit more about that. I’m aware that it may seem strange that one can live out and about in Alliance, have a house and family, cruise the dollar stores, hang out at the local coffeehouse…and live and practice as a monk.

I am what is called a Shramanera - an ordained novice monk. After flirting with Buddhism ever since college in the early 70’s, I began formally practicing in 2000 at CloudWater Zendo in Cleveland. I completed a Basics of Buddhism class and received lay ordination in 2001. I suppose that could be compared to “joining the church.” People who commit to practicing the way of the Buddha take Three Refuge Vows and Five Precepts. In an effort to deepen my practice, I began volunteering to assist at meditation services in Canton and asked Venerable Ying-Fa to be my teacher. The student-teacher relationship is very important for anyone who wants to seriously pursue meditation. It is so helpful to be guided by someone whose meditative practice is more mature than yours is. You can meditate yourself down a dead-end street and not even know it. A good teacher can keep you on a productive path.

I was invited to join the Senior Sangha (order of monks) about a year later and undertook a period of training as a Postulant. Not as exotic and glamorous as you might think. Postulants are basically go-fers. I learned how to set up the altar, watch the clock to time meditation sessions, ring the bells and play the drum for services. I fetched glasses of water and cups of tea for the Abbot. I jumped up to seat late-comers during meditation services, cleaned the gunk out of water offering cups and  picked up trash on the Zendo curb. (in a bright orange robe!)  And I was on the receiving end of numerous, not-so-subtle corrections in front of the assembled meditators in both Cleveland and Canton. In 2004, I received ordination as a novice monk. I wear traditional monk’s garments for services and ceremonies but dress as a civilian in everyday life.

Buddhism has only been in the West for about 150 years. It’s a mere infant here in terms of being an organized religion. As Buddhism moved out of India, to China, Tibet, SE Asia, Japan, it always found a way to become part of the local culture while maintaining the integrity of the tradition. It’s no diff. here in the United States. Buddhism is finding a way to make the teachings of the Buddha meaningful to the American way of life. In the Zen Study Group I teach in Canton, we study basic Buddhist teachings but mix it up with discussion of the Buddhist perspective on everyday life issues.(e.g. dealing with anger, transforming anxiety, improving relationships) We Americans are a “What’s in it for me?” bunch. Being a Buddhist is not an easy, passive pursuit. If we’re going to put so much effort into our spiritual life, we want to believe we’ll see some tangible results. Will I be less worried and stressed? Will it help me ease up on my (ahem!) over-indulgences? Will I find happiness? The Buddha said he taught suffering and the end to suffering / happiness and the means to happiness. In every culture Buddhism has entered, it has found a way to meet the needs of that society while remaining true to Buddha’s basic teachings. Part of my job as a monk is to teach and to demonstrate that these practices are indeed transformative.

Once during my early training I felt the need to pull the dragon’s whiskers. (That’s Zen-speak for “yanking your teacher’s chain.”) I asked him, if I was willing to observe the Precepts in my daily life, why should I put on a robe?(i.e. receive ordination and become a monk.) Venerable Ying-Fa immediately shot back, “Because people need to see monks.” Oh right, it’s not all about me. (I seem to need to say that a lot.) And it’s true. I know that I am a monk today because I observed with fascination the monks of the Nien-Fo Ch’an Order going about the business of the Zendo. I suspect they saw me staring at them as they mindfully lit the incense, precisely filled the water offering cups and intently poured their tea - all with an ease and lack of self-consciousness that seemed impossible for me at the time. I am truly grateful for their example. It told me that practicing the way of the Buddha offered the opportunity to let go of the lead-filled suitcases I was carrying around. It is humbling to know that I have the responsibility to provide that same example for others.

I think the best spiritual teachers are those who wordlessly demonstrate or embody the wisdom of their tradition. Have you ever been moved by a spiritual teacher who had no need for fiery sermons or stern lectures? Someone whose every movement was a lesson?

Be well.

The news these days out of Tibet is both heartbreaking and fascinating. Headlines tell of the Chinese government vowing to “crush” the Tibetan rebellion. The Dalai Lama calls for non-violence and presses, not for independence for Tibet, but rather “preservation of the Tibetan culture.” His position is doggedly one of conciliation rather than contempt towards the Chinese government.

The Dalai Lama is attempting to practice “Middle Way” diplomacy with the Chinese. Following the Middle Way, the Dalai Lama has refused to condemn the police state tactics of the Chinese in Tibet. He calmly and patiently seeks autonomy rather than independence from China. He asks his supporters to refrain from violence. How can he smilingly face the leaders of a gigantic nation who call him “a devil with a human face” and systematically work to dismantle the Tibetan way of life?

The concept of the Middle Way is central to Buddhist practice and was among the Buddha’s first teachings upon his Enlightenment. It’s been most interesting to watch this Middle Way practice that us Buddhists cultivate in our daily lives play out on the world stage. Just what is the Middle Way?

The Buddha grew up a spoiled rich kid living in luxury. In his Daddy’s palace, his every sensual desire was indulged. But when he left home and embarked on his spiritual quest, he experimented with the exaggerated ascetic practices of spiritual seekers of the day - near starvation, little sleep, harsh living conditions and rigorous spiritual practices. He came to realize that he would never find ultimate truth in the extremes of self-indulgence or self-denial. So he took nourishment, regained his health and began to cultivate a middle path. He carefully worked out a path that avoids over-indulgence in sensual pleasures as well as arduous self-mortification. He also avoided emotional extremes. Following his example, Buddhist practitioners work to avoid extremes in behavior and thought. Tolerance and moderation, as demonstrated by the Buddha, bring us to balance and happiness.

However, I must tell you — the Dalai Lama is not our guy! What I mean is, most people think of the Dalai Lama as the Pope of all Buddhists. My friends and acquaintances assume he is, in effect, my boss. Not so. There are as many sects in Buddhism as there are denominations in Christianity. The Dalai Lama is the spiritual leader of Tibetan Buddhists. They account for perhaps 25% of all Buddhists worldwide. My teacher’s lineage is Chinese. We practice Ch’an Buddhism. In Japan it’s called Zen. While we respect the Dalai Lama as an awesome teacher and spokesperson for Buddhism around the world, we are of a different sect. We all follow the teachings of the Buddha, but Ch’an traditions and practices are somewhat different from Tibetan traditions and practices. I have received many kind wishes recently for the safety of the Dalai Lama and the Tibetan people. I share that wish. But we also hope for the health and well-being of the Chinese people. What an example it would be to the world if Middle Way diplomacy brings peace and happiness for both the Chinese and the Tibetan people.

May all beings be happy and peaceful!

Everywhere I went for the last month, Stark Countians were buzzing about the Bobby Cutts murder trial. Clerks passed the time behind counters chatting about it. Every coffee shop I frequent was twittering with opinions about how the jury would rule. Working at the basketball tournaments at the Civic Center in Canton, I heard the opinion of every usher and concessionaire on the defendant’s lifestyle and his predicted fate in prison. It finally took a nasty blizzard to shift our attention to another topic of conversation.

We do love to gossip. We’re always looking for the next juicy story. Shows like Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood have taken gossip to another level. Which reminds me — I took a vow about gossip! I received Ten Precepts or vows to practice upon ordination as a novice monk and some of them speak about gossip. We vow not to praise ourselves and devalue others. And we vow not to speak disparagingly of the shortcomings of others, but rather to regard others’ failings as part of their path toward True Understanding. These vows are to be practiced at all times and in all places. How hard is that? At all times and in all places, we practice refraining from passing on a delicious nugget of info on someone. At all times and in all places we note the urge to join the chorus of clucking tongues.  We practice letting that urge pass on by without picking up on it. We’ve learned to use gossip as a way of making social connections. It seems to say, “I think like you think. We’re in synch.” Can we interact with people without taking part in this social habit? It requires some real mindfulness of what’s going on in our head before it comes out of our mouth.

Centuries ago, monks living in monasteries received cautions about engaging in idle chatter and unproductive speech - and they didn’t get cable or People Magazine. Today we’ve elevated idle chatter to an art. So if you are fairly bursting with news of the New York governor’s proclivities or our friend’s latest fashion faux pas, I’d rather you would talk to someone else. This is a hard practice.

May we practice kind and gentle speech!

Golden Wisdom Zen Meditation met last night in Canton. Every cushion and chair was full with folks meditating - beginners and committed practitioners. Smoke from the incense burner spiraled up. A wooden Buddha perched on the altar seated in meditative posture, just like us. The only sounds were the occasional whoosh of passing cars and the yells of kids at play outside. The meditation hall was still . . . and yet abuzz with intense activity. Each person was practicing a method of meditation developed to help them drop their attachment to thoughts, moods, desires and the ceaseless activity of the ego mind. The energy of this group of folks pursuing the practice of meditation was palpable. Anyone who meditates is aware that group practice is quite different from sitting alone on the cushion at home. There is something about doing this work in the company of others that ratchets up everyone’s intensity.

During an instruction class in meditation, I once heard a beginner say to a monk, “I don’t know if I can sit still that long. What if my nose itches?” The monk suggested that this newbie try an experiment. He said, “Your nose itches? Don’t scratch it. Watch the itch. See what happens.” We are so used to moving immediately to scratch every perceived itch in our psyche that we never question these knee-jerk movements. We’re hungry? Gotta eat now. We’re lonely? Gotta pick up the cellphone and talk to somebody. We’re sad? Gotta find a way to numb that pain. Right now. What if we just notice those feelings but stop before we react to them? If the newbie’s nose itched during meditation and he refrained from scratching it, would he die? Of course not. He would notice that the itch changes in intensity, in location. Sometimes it goes away, but then it returns. He would perceive different, fascinating qualities of itchiness. And if he leaves it alone, eventually it goes away — and nothing bad happens. And so it is with the movement of our mind. Emotions and moods come and go. Desires pop up and assert themselves, but then mutate into something else. If we can just sit with these feelings, observe them with equanimity and leave them alone — they evaporate. Meditation is a practice that helps us simply sit in awareness of whatever pops up in our experience. Meditation helps us learn that we don’t have to scratch every itch.

The bell sounds. We bring our palms together and bow. We stand up from our cushions. Now the work is to take that same quality of awareness from the cushion to everything in our lives.

May all beings be happy and peaceful!

My nine year old Siamese kitty, Boris, has nasal cancer.  He is undergoing an eight week course of chemotherapy at this amazing animal clinic in Fairlawn.  This morning I dedicated the merit of my meditation practice to Boris’ health and well-being.  Transfer of Merit is an ancient Buddhist practice in which we share the goodness created by our wholesome actions with another being or with all beings.  I meditated this morning - a wholesome action.  Rather than keeping that good energy for myself, I passed it along to Boris.  It’s the least I could do.  Boris and his sister Natasha have provided us with constant companionship, uncomplicated love and loads of entertainment.  Will all the times I’ve dedicated merit Boris’ direction, along with that chemo-cocktail they give him every week, cure his cancer and keep him with us for another nine years?  I don’t know.  But I’ve found that transferring merit to others takes me out of my selfish self and deepens my understanding that what happens to one of us happens to all of us.

Rejoicing in the happiness and good fortune of others is another Buddhist practice known as the Cultivation of Sympathetic Joy.  When Boris and Natasha race around the room with the kitty crazies or when they roll and stretch in a pool of sunlight, I can rejoice in their happiness.  I’m glad they have happiness and the causes of happiness.  But that’s an easy example.  Do we rejoice for an acquaintance who hits the lottery or who can eat anything she wants and not gain an ounce? Harder still is to have that inward smile when someone we dislike or disapprove of has a piece of good fortune.  I kept score for Alliance basketball teams for many years.  At the end of one season, the Aviators played a local rival for the league championship.  Our opponents won the game on a last second buzzer-beater.  The young men from the school-we-love-to-hate fell on the floor like a pile of happy puppies celebrating their feat.  I remember feeling such inward warmth for that scene until my co-worker at the scorer’s table elbowed me and said, “What are you so happy about?”  OOPS!  We’re not supposed to find joy in the success of our opponents.  And yet, that’s exactly what we’re challenged to practice with Sympathetic Joy.  

Transferring Merit (sending our personal spiritual goodies on to others) and Cultivating Sympathetic Joy (rejoicing when other beings have success - even if we don’t get to fly the League Champ banner) are ways of grooving some very positive and powerful spiritual attitudes.  And they are such good antidotes for jealousy and depression.  What I love about Buddhist practice is that it offers me a way to transform my unskillful and unhelpful attitudes and actions.  When I get it that this life isn’t all about me, I suffer less and I cause less suffering for those around me.  Now, if the Boston Celtics beat LeBron and the Cavs out of the Eastern Conference Championship, can I come up with some Sympathetic Joy for those bean-eating, parquet-floor pounding gentlemen in the ugly green uniforms?  We’ll see.  I guess that’s why they call Buddhism a spiritual practice.  I’ll keep practicing.  

May all beings have happiness and the causes of happiness!