Moody Weather

Another cool fall morning ~
moist air drapes the world
in a blanket of dew that falls, lazily,
from the pecan trees in sparse droplets,
each hitting the ground with a distinct "splat,"
giving the illusion of rain.

The air feels thick and not quite hazy;
morning sun presses through
in soft rays, giving shape to space.
The squirrel's chatter is less insistent than usual.
Dogs bark, but with less urgency.
Even the traffic's hum has a gentleness to it.

I notice, with a flicker of recognition,
that even the weather has moods...

The New Year's Miracle

On January 1st we smashed pumpkins in the front yard,
dubbing them "the Baby New Year," and filling them
with our hopes and aspirations,
in an impromptu ritual of endings and beginnings.

At midsummer a vine began to grow,
lengthening with the long days of August and September,
sprouting lavish yellow blooms that nurtured the bees.

And now, in autumn, a new pumpkin has emerged,
turning from a deep green to a golden orange ~
We check its progress each day,
marveling in this process of co-creation.

Buddhist-Christian Dialogue in Austin, TX

This article was originally published on the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center's Shambhala Times News blog.

Austin Shambhala Center Hosts Members of Cristo Rey Catholic Church

On a recent Thursday evening, members of Cristo Rey Catholic Church in East Austin visited the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center for an introduction to Shambhala Buddhism meditation practice. As a professor of religious studies and proponent of interfaith dialogue, I was thrilled to hear about this event. I had the opportunity to communicate with the leaders of both congregations about their experiences of the evening, as well as their reflections on interfaith communication more generally. Cristo Rey’s pastor, Father Jayme Mathias, has been teaching a world religions course over the past year, in which the congregation’s predominantly Mexican-born, Spanish-speaking members have had the opportunity to learn about and visit a variety of religious centers, including a local Hindu temple, an Islamic Center, a Mexican Baptist church, and a Mexican indigenous spirituality center. Father Jayme’s request to visit the Shambhala Center provided a growth opportunity for both congregations. On the one had, the Shambhala Center had never before offered instruction in Spanish. On the other, as Father Jayme notes: “The course on world religions has been eye-opening for many. Because some 87% of Mexicans are Catholic, they are not so accustomed to thinking of faith traditions outside their own.” Indeed, both congregations challenged their comfort zones, opening their hearts and minds for an evening of learning and discussion. When the members of Cristo Rey arrived, Austin Shambhala Center Director Billy Boyar welcomed them and offered an introduction to Shambhala Buddhism, with assistance from Rita Ricardo, providing translation and meditation instruction in Spanish, and Luis Iglesias reading passages from Shambhala: La Senda Sagrada del Guerrero (Shambhala: Sacred Path of the Warrior) by Shambhala founder Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche and Gobierna Tu Vida (Ruling Your World) by Shambhala’s current teacher, the Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche. Shambhala Center members Toby Bernal, Lynn Wolfe, Darren Dyke, and Ginny Foley also helped to welcome members of Cristo Rey for the evening. Chögyam Trungpa Rinpoche, in his efforts to establish Shambhala Buddhism in the West, was a strong proponent of interfaith dialogue and study, hosting a number of interfaith conferences and gatherings, and founding Naropa University in Boulder, Colorado. Billy Boyar recalls: “I mentioned that Trungpa Rinpoche was interested in creating a dialog between Christian and Buddhist meditators. To accomplish this dialog, Rinpoche had organized the Christian-Buddhist conference on meditation in Boulder in 1985. I had the good fortune of attending that conference, where I heard a number of excellent teachers, both Christian and Buddhist. Relating this history was an attempt to find common ground.” Indeed, it seems that between these two religious communities in Austin, TX, common ground is alive and growing. Father Jayme, a frequent traveler to Asia, observed in a recent issue of the El Heraldo de Cristo Rey (The Cristo Rey Herald), his congregation’s weekly newspaper: “In Mexico, taxicab drivers place rosaries, images of saints, and other religious objects on their dashboards, rearview mirrors and visors. In Thailand, these same places are adorned with myriad buddhas and other Buddhist objects and images. Both in our Roman Catholic faith tradition and in the Buddhist traditions of Thailand, we find religious images and paintings, altars and incense, holy water and floral offerings. That is, despite our differences, there is also much that we share in common as members of the same human family.” In the spirit of interfaith exploration, I recently ventured to Cristo Rey for the 11:30 a.m. Sunday Bilingual Mariachi Mass, and what a wonderful experience it was to hear Father Jayme lead the Mass in both Spanish and English with such a lively musical accompaniment! I would recommend this experience to anyone. And, as a member of the Austin Shambhala Center I can certainly recommend the Center’s offerings of meditation instruction, public meditation, and other classes and workshops on mindfulness practice, Buddhism, and the contemplative arts. The city of Austin offers such a rich variety of religious communities and experiences, and it’s heartening to see some of them genuinely reaching out to one another. For more information on interfaith efforts in Austin, check out the: Interfaith Action of Centeral Texas (iACT)

--Article by Melinda Rothouse with gratitude to Father Jayme Mathias of Cristo Rey Church and Billy Boyar of the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center

Emerging from Sleep

A work in progress...

Tropical winds carry with them

memories of passion and longing ~

the scarlet flush of a stolen kiss and

other dreams from distant lands.

My bones lay heavy and dull,

held in place by a force stronger than gravity.

It’s hard to emerge from this dewy world

where dreams of lust and longing,

seduction and satisfaction

hold me fast with long, sticky fingers -

trapped between dream and waking.

I lay here, savoring the pleasure,

gazing out the window as pecan branches sway

and rustle, tickled by those sultry breezes.

I’ve slept so deeply these last few nights;

ambrosia for an insomniac.

It’s the same sodden slumber and deep dreaming

I experienced after moving to New Orleans,

with its enveloping, steamy air and those same southern, Gulf winds

making their way north from the Caribbean,

carrying their stories and their sorrows with them.

And these remnants infuse my dreams,

flooding the valley of my subconscious

with a pungent, penetrating musk

of jasmine and brine.

Miksang and Haiku

I recently participated in a weekend workshop called The Way of Nature: Miksang and Haiku with teacher and poet Miriam Hall. We spent two days photographing, writing, and wandering around the gorgeous environs of McKinney Roughs Nature Park outside of Austin. Here's what emerged:

Red honeysuckle
lavishly adorns the pole ~
in spring's new wardrobe

Lizard changes hue
as bees busy themselves in
opulent pink buds

Last year's spent seed pods
hanging on, not yet displaced
by this season's shoots

Feather light spring breeze
tickles skin and rustles leaves ~
Whoosh! A gusty angst

Tired bones lean in
my eyelids growing heavy
amidst the dry reeds

Pollen hangs from tree
taunting me with its graceful
plumes ~ tonight I'll sneeze

Retreating to Dzogchen Beara: Eastern Spirituality in Western Ireland

New article about my experiences at a Buddhist retreat center in Ireland, published on ReligionNerd.com! Religion Nerd is an e-magazine that offers information and a wide array of perspectives on world religions and issues related to religion, both in America and internationally, and aims to foster religious dialogue.

From the moment I stepped into the van, I knew I had entered a different world. The other passengers were already well-acquainted with the weekly O’Donaghue bus from Cork to Castletownbere, a little town somewhere far out on the Beara Peninsula in West Cork, Ireland. 

Heading home from a day of commerce in the city, many passengers carried loads of shopping bags that filled the narrow aisles while others were making a weekend commute to the Peninsula. A musty odour permeated the vehicle, smoky—dusky, an infusion of cigarette smoke and body odour, perfume and food. Aromas left behind by the countless passengers who made the trip many years past. The seats worn and threadbare, the windows smudged with breath and oil from the many heads that rested upon them...

By the time we reached Castletownbere, most of the other passengers had disembarked at various points along the roadside. “Can you stop just there, at the next crossroads?  Thank you, thanks so much! Goodnight,” passengers imparted before disappearing up wandering side roads or into neat modern homes.  Exiting the van in Castletownbere’s tiny square, I looked around helplessly for a taxi, finally asking the driver of the van where I might procure one last mode of transportation to my destination.

“Where are you headed, then?” he asks.  "Dzogchen Beara,” I reply.

Another voice joined the conversation; I turned and found the man who had sat behind me on the van, whose accent I had earlier struggled to decode as he talked on his cell phone. “Oh, yes, I’m going that way—a lad is on his way to collect me. He should be able to drop you off if he’s got room—he’ll be going right past there.” He assures me.  “Wonderful,” I reply.

As we wait, we introduce ourselves, and it turns out he’s just back from Galicia, Spain, where he completed a three-month pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela.  My impression of him shifts drastically from country bumpkin to world traveller—religious pilgrim…And so I hitched a ride with him and Gert (Gurd?), his German friend who cheerfully rearranged the back of his car to make space for me: “Feckin’ sold me other car!” he shouts.

They asked if I have previously been to Dzogchen Beara?  ”No, this is my first time.”

“Well, whatever they say, don’t sign anything,” says Gert, wryly.

“What, you think they’ll ask me to sign my life away?” I inquire laughingly.

“Just don’t sign anything!” Gert insisted, slightly suspicious of the strange Tibetan Buddhist retreat center residing in their midst.

I arrived around 9:00 p.m. at the international hostel, where, like some post-millenial contortion of Tabard’s Inn from the Canterbury Tales, the party is just beginning.  Gathered in the kitchen were a zany lot of merry Buddhist/hippies, cracking jokes about death and reincarnation, and celebrating the departure of Anna, a willowy, wise, gracefully aging and painfully kind guest. Though she’s the guest of honour, she jumps up when I walk in, welcomes me, and shows me to the women’s dormitory. Settling my bags, I returned to meet the other guests: There’s gentle Richard from Holland, who gave up his career in the theatre after his parents’ passing to come and live among the Buddhists, shrewd Cynthia from New Zealand, a widowed retired former hostel-owner (the Buddha’s Abode, it was called), three cheerful Italian students on summer holiday, waifish Clare-the-Mermaid from France, and Tim from who-knows-where, strumming the ukulele in a vintage three-piece suit with flowers in his hair, leading a call and response to: “Who’s got the love?” “We got the love!” Damien, the social worker-turned-musician from Dublin, whaling on his digerideedoo and a local Corkonian, Brona thrilling us all with her oven-rack-and-shoelaces-turned organ of the gods (just put those little loops at the end of the shoelaces into your ears while I run this fork across the oven rack, and prepare to be amazed—note to self: must try this at home; great party trick).

In the midst of all this mayhem, I craved a quiet evening curled up with a book, but soon accepted that there was nothing to do but join in. As Ross, my beloved dharma buddy back in Austin would say, “don’t hesitate; just say yes…”

Though Buddhist rather than Christian, this place seemed somehow in line with the long and storied Irish monastic tradition, or at least some 21^st century version of it.  Being at Dzogchen Beara, I felt that I had entered a living breathing community along the lines of St. Enda (father of Irish monasticism), who lived all those centuries ago on the desolate Aran Islands, an emphasis on simplicity, quietude (certainly not always observed), communal living, recycling and composting, meditation and study.  Yes, in the hostel we slept in bunk beds with ten to a room rather than in individual beehive huts, but during my long walks along the craggy hillsides, and hours spent in meditation looking out over the broad, vast sea, I felt a sense of the contemplative life.

Not only did I feel a connection with the Irish monastic tradition, but also with the worldwide Buddhist community.  Dzogchen Beara is one of the main retreat centers of the Rigpa sangha, under the direction of Sogyal Rinpoche, a Tibetan lama who fled Tibet after the Chinese invasion.  After coming to the West and studying comparative religion at Cambridge, he founded a network of Buddhist centers all around the world. Rinpoche’s international students gather at retreat centers like this one to practice intensive meditation, study, receive teachings and spiritual transmissions, and deepen their practice.  You can feel the dedication in their stories and the incredible distances they have traveled to be here. Several visitors tell me of their hometown Buddhist communities in places like Dublin, Nelson (New Zealand), and southern France, and I marvel at the flowering of this tradition of non-violence and compassion.

Chris, a longtime Rigpa member and engineer, who was helping to revamp the center’s communication systems, told me of the Rigpa center in South London, where he assisted with renovations.  In its former life, before being purchased by Rigpa, the building served as the courthouse where many of the IRA trials of the 1970′s and 80′s took place. He spoke of cells where IRA members were once held, under maximum security, while awaiting their trials.  These same cells are now dormitories and meditation rooms—talk about poetic justice.

During my last evening at Dzogchen Beara, a group of us journeyed into town for an evening of music at the local pub.  Sitting at a street side table with the cool ocean breeze nipping at our shoulders—it’s Saturday night and the whole town, people of all ages, are out to relax and socialize—my international Buddhist friends broached the topic of religion in America.  Dubliner Edward observed that Americans seem to be more religious than Europeans, who retain a post-Enlightenment skepticism about religious dogma and the intolerance it can foster.  Perhaps it is this skepticism that makes Buddhism, with its pacifist and non-theistic stance, an appealing alternative for Europeans to the religious traditions of the West.

And what of religion in Ireland today? Although religious matters suffuse the tempest of Irish history, many 20^th century Irish writers, most notably James Joyce and Edna O’Brien, have written about the oppressive nature of Irish Catholicism and searched for possible alternatives.  Both seem to be asking, can you be Irish and neither Catholic nor Protestant?  Is there another alternative?
My sense of things is that, despite Ireland’s legendary Celtic past and its staunchly Catholic identity, these days many Irish people, like Joyce and O’Brien, are skeptical, if not downright cynical, about religion.  Even people who drop into Church every now and then for good measure, don’t find much that’s “deep and meaningful,” especially among the younger generation.  Of course, that’s not always the case, as my friend who walked the pilgrimage route of Santiago de Compostela could attest.  Traversing the countryside, one sees endless ruins of ancient churches and monasteries, some lovingly restored and touted as tourist destinations, and many more slowly decaying in the middle of fields, but go to mass at a contemporary church and you’ll find it maybe a quarter full.  It makes me wonder whether religion, at least in the Christian sense, isn’t regarded as a relic of a violent and socially-repressive past that the Celtic Tiger is all too ready to leave behind.

And what of the ancient Celtic/Pagan tradition that’s so identified with Ireland in cultural imaginings?  Sure, you catch glimpses and hear whispers, especially in the odd women’s retreat advert promising a reawakening of feminine power and sexuality, but it’s not really a living, viable practice as far as I was able to observe.  What about alternative/Eastern religions?  Well, as in America, people are looking for an alternative way to connect with the spiritual without all the cultural and historical baggage of Christianity.  Yoga studios and Buddhist meditation centers are popping up all over Ireland, as a brief Google search will reveal.  And, as my experience at Dzogchen Beara attests, although they do not appear to be as ubiquitous or as mainstream as they are in America (at least, not just yet), some people claim that religion is dead, that it has no place in the contemporary world, and yet people are turning to various spiritual traditions (often not the ones with which they were raised) in record numbers, especially in the wake of 9/11, war, economic recession, and a general sense of disconnection and spiritual malaise.  If my time at Dzogchen Beara is any indication, spirituality still flows in Ireland, and indeed across the globe.  Though we may not immediately recognize it, religious traditions are crossing borders as quickly as any commodity, revealing the true depth of humanity’s interconnection.


View the full article on ReligionNerd.com here.

Miksang Photography

Photos by Melinda Rothouse

Miksang is a practice of contemplative photography that fosters a deep engagement with the phenomenal world. Like other contemplative arts disciplines, Miksang emphasizes the experience of pure perception, of opening oneself up to the inherent beauty and energy of the world itself, rather than attempting to cultivate any notion of creativity or “skill” within the individual artist. It is about appreciation rather than mastery, recalling Suzuki Roshi’s “beginner’s mind,” in which many possibilities exist, rather than attempting to achieve any sense of expertise.

Miksang in practice begins with what is called a “flash of perception,” in which the photographer encounters the world as it is, before labels or judgments, even before concepts come creeping in. It is the raw, naked moment of “seeing,” an intimate encounter between the perceiver and the perceived, which underscores the inseparability of self and other. It’s not about taking beautiful pictures (though beautiful pictures may emerge), but about dancing with the world of forms, colors, and textures. It’s about noticing, and resting in, the space around things just as much as in the things themselves. Sometimes the subjects of the photos remain unrecognizable—it’s impossible to identify "what" they are by our usual conventions of naming and labeling—and this is just the point: to get beyond our habitual tendencies of categorizing and conceptualizing experience, and to return to the immediacy and freshness of our sensory experience.

Even photographing people and landscapes becomes a new experience, as the photographer senses and communicates the energetic exchange between people and within nature; as a practice it’s a way of opening oneself to the world of experience. Often the results can be quite humorous, even ironic, as when the Miksang practitioner begins to explore the connections between seemingly unrelated images or objects, like the “orderly chaos” of graffiti, objects in shop windows, or various elements within an urban street scene.

I have had the pleasure of attending several Miksang photography workshops, and have found a deep peace in the practice of wandering around the familiar streets and parks of Austin while allowing new, surprising, and fresh sensations and experiences to wash over me. There is a great joy and contentment that arises when we simply relax and allow ourselves to open to the wonders of the phenomenal world.

Many thanks to Miksang teachers Jake Lorfing, Miriam Hall, and John McQuade.

You can learn more about Miksang practice and workshop opportunities at The Miksang Institute and Miksang Texas. There is a Miksang Level I workshop happening at the Austin Shambhala Meditation Center on January 29-30, 2011.