to-shine

The Dream that Dreamed me...and changed everything.

Sun, 08 Apr 2012 00:47:18 +0100

I just awoke from the most fantastic experience. It was so real that I thought I was awake... but I also knew I was dreaming.

In the middle of the night, I opened my eyes..and was afraid. This is very rare because..well...there is not much that scares me. I don't give any thought to ghosts, demons, or any of that jazz...so I just told myself to smile and go back to sleep.

Suddenly, I was standing up in my room and the light was off but I could see everything clearly. There was a Presence behind me...and this Presence started leading me around the room showing me things.

We walked up to one of the two Tibetan Paintings (Thankgas: Tibetan silk painting with embroidery, usually depicting a Buddhist deity, scene, or mandala of some sort) that hang in my room. Both of these Thankgas were given to me by my Teacher, Lama Tulku Tsori Rinpoche.

The Presence stepped out from behind and stood in front of me. It was not scary or friendly. The Presence was in the form of a person (more or less) but made out of white energy. It pointed to the depliction of Śākyamuni Buddha on the Thankga and said, "Look behind these symbols. What do they mean to you in reality?"

And I felt kind of dumb, but I could see him or her trying to get a point across to me...but not overly concerned about it either. It was kind of like a teacher that is doing their thing in front of a large classroom, where they know some of the kids are really getting it, some are not, some don't care, and others are talking to each other....but they just keep teaching with all they got.- idk- no words to describe- concern with indifference)

Anyway, so we go over to the other Thankga (Blue Medicine Buddha.) I see a long, slender energy arm go up and point to the Thankga. "Look at all these symbols. What do they mean to you in reality?" And I don't say anything. It doesn't feel like i'm expected too. I'm just listening.

We go over to my little Shrine. And we just stand there, together, looking at the Buddha Statue, the picture of my Lama, the bells, the bowls, the malas, the little Kwan Yin statue and all the other objects.

After a couple of minutes, we look at each other and I step back a few feet. (This is an incredible part, but it didn't even seem that surprizing at the time)....but this Presence...which seems so familar to me now...steps back and draws a picture of Chenrezig (Avalokiteshvara) in the air...with pure light.

And then this image, made of brilliant light, starts morphing into...i don't know..like everything i have ever seen in my buddhist journey...I mean like Buddhist deities, protectors, stupas, footprints, scrolls, wheels, flowers, ancient writing, robes..images...Deer Park..vajras...statues..idk.

As these pictues were spinning in the air, light and shadow danced all around me...but I was still very conscious of being there and this Presence being even closer to me now...saying,

"Living the Wisdom, is much different then creating an image of Wisdom. You have been creating an image of Wisdom, now it is time for you to be this Wisdom...to live this Wisdom. These images are creations of other's minds. Life is a creation of mind. Think about your life...what are these symbols saying...pointing to...what do they mean in reality...to you?"

As far as I know, I went into a very sound sleep and awoke feeling a little weird but well rested.

Interestingly, as I look around at the icons of the Buddha, the pictures of my Lama, and so forth in my room now...it's a feeling of...there is nothing holy or sacred there anymore...it is just me...it is just us...in these images and pictures...and we have always had the power to create goodness and life with our minds...hopes..and dreams..

...and there is no Buddha...other than...I am the Buddha...you are the Buddha...and we have the chance to get going...living out the Wisdom that we already know is right...doing what we were born to do...

I write this here and share it...while it is fresh...so I don't forget.

I love you all so very much.

with deep respect,

kiley

Street Dharma: Teaching Meditation to the Homeless

Fri, 30 Dec 2011 02:56:21 +0100

A few months ago, I met a man named Kiley Jon Clark who teaches meditation to the homeless in San Antonio, Texas. My curiosity piqued. I asked him to tell me more about what he calls HMP Street Dharma(HMP stands for Homeless Meditation Practitioners).

What's the purpose of meditation?

"In Tibetan, the word for meditation means, 'To become familiar.' We are trying to become familiar with ourselves -- with how our minds work. It all starts with being here, in the present moment.

It can be very unsettling when you realize just how frantic your mind really is. Just try it. Stop, sit down, stay in the present moment and think of nothing but your own breathing. You may find, like Buddhist elders have said, that the mind is like a crazy monkey swinging from thought to thought and from past to future. Our brains do not know how to relax."

But how can the homeless meditate if they are in a critical situation like homelessness?

"Our main aim of working with the homeless is just being with them. It is about everyday interactions. And those who ask for meditation instruction will gladly get it.

"Like most of us, the homeless have been listening to the same negative thoughts in their heads for years. 'I'm so stupid.' 'I'm such a mess.' 'I can't do this anymore.' 'I wish I were dead.' Everyone has this negative mental chatter going on all the time and we don't even recognize it.

But once the 'monkey mind' is revealed through meditation -- once we start being present with our thoughts as the observer of them -- old thought patterns get broken and things begin to change in our lives.

This is as true for the homeless as it is for anyone else. Whether or not you have a roof over your head has nothing to do with quieting your mind, getting to know yourself and being fully awake."

What does your work entail?

"We go to the streets to the homeless and also teach at a facility called 'Haven for Hope.' Working this way provides freedom to just be ourselves and make friends. Interestingly, this is what both Jesus and Buddha did. Although they both held services and preached, they spent the majority of their lives simply being the message of love and compassion. They lived with the poor -- both Buddha and Jesus sat with, talked with, listened to, ate with and shared the suffering and grief of the people."

What's your own personal story? How did you come to be doing this work?

"My story is a long one, way too much to tell here. But the short version is, I was raised in an alcoholic home and became one myself. I've dealt with clinical depression, divorce, death of loved ones and jail. But, in 2006, I met a Tibetan Lama at the San Antonio Airport, of all places. His name is Lama Tulku Tsori Rinpoche and he runs a monastery for Tibetan refugee children in Mainpat, India.

Meeting this Lama changed the whole course of my life. He has been my guiding light and inspiration.

If you were going to be a meditation teacher, why teach the homeless? Why not upscale people who want to meditate?

"Neglect is something most children of alcoholics feel, so I think my childhood made me especially sensitive to the loneliness and suffering of others. Among other things, the homeless also suffer from personal neglect. When you have lost everything, it is easy to lose yourself, too.

As a Buddhist, my life should reflect my beliefs. Most people's lives are usually driven by unfulfilling desires and cravings for money, status, material goods, sensual pleasures -- things we think will make us happy, but don't.

Instead, why not be completely motivated by compassion, generosity, loving-kindness and wisdom? Can you think of a better alternative?"

Can non-Buddhists be involved in this outreach?

If you would like to become a homeless outreach worker, Buddhist or not, feel free to contact us. We will be living, learning and practicing together. Or, if you'd like to support our work with contributions, we gratefully accept. The need here is enormous, so we welcome your help and support."

What about dangers you might face ... any antagonism from the homeless?

"In my experience, there is very little violence among the homeless community. They often have fights among themselves, but rarely, if ever, is that violence directed at people outside their peer group."

Can you give me an example of how meditation has helped a homeless person?

"When we were doing the meditation group inside the emergency shelter, there was a man named Dino. He was reclusive and angry when he first started coming to group. Little by little, he started opening up. He would share a little more about his life and what he was feeling every week in the group.

"After several months of these weekly meditation groups, he was a very different person. Dino told us that he would use these meditation techniques to keep his mind tranquil and calm throughout the long nights at the shelter. He often spoke about his daughter, from whom he was estranged. We gave him a Tonglen practice to help with this. It was a visualization of taking in the negative energy between him and his daughter, and releasing it back as light, love and healing.

"One day, Dino came up and gave me a big hug. He said that he had called his daughter after years of not speaking to her. They both cried and talked for hours. She sent him a bus ticket, and as far as I know, he is living with her somewhere in Oregon."

It's been fascinating talking with you, Kiley. Any final words you'd like to add?

The Tibetans have a proverb: "If you want to be sad, think only of yourself. If you want to be happy, think only of others." I would add to that my own words: "Better than a thousand years of bowing to The Buddha is one day lived as a BOW (Buddhist Outreach Worker)."

If you would like to support HMP Street Dharma, go to www.ytdr.org and make a donation for 'Homeless Meditation.' To contact Kiley Jon Clark directly, email hmpstreetdharma@gmail.com.

from Huffington Post article:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bj-gallagher/street-dharma-teaching-me_b_1074124.html

"These Faces" by kiley jon clark

Wed, 12 Oct 2011 22:22:10 +0100

I see it in their faces. Here at the Homeless facility. The way the young mother looks at her baby in the stroller, “What’s going to become of us now?”

The old woman asleep, head down on the metal bench, “So many places I’ve slept, maybe this, my last, there’s no more ‘going’ in me.”

The rude boys running past, trying to look cool in clothes from ‘donations,’ all of them thinking, “I’m going to be bigger than this someday!”

The men in the Alcohol and Drug Treatment Program hiding in back and around the corner, talking on banned cell phones. They’re talking to wives and girlfriends, promising the World, acting tough, and being scared.

All these faces, waiting for something better to come along, thinking of where they have been and where they are going.

And I’m invisible, just a custodian picking up trash, moving in and out of offices, dorm rooms, waiting rooms, courtyards, kitchens, restrooms, and people’s lives, unnoticed.

But I’m thinking of my own life, where I have been. Sometimes I can slip into non-duality, where I AM nowhere, but I always come back to remember.

I remember being where they are. I remember guards making me take my clothes off and put on other clothes that said, “Property of County Jail.”

I remember letters to my girlfriend promising the world. I remember waiting, waiting to use phones, waiting in lobbies, waiting for probation officers, social workers, principals, doctors, results, rides, answers, and my drunk father to get up. I remember waiting.

I’m not there now, but I put myself in their shoes and think, “They are all trying to get where I am now.”

In distance, it’s only a few feet. In time, it might be a matter of seconds or infinite lifetimes. I’m just a custodian moving through people’s lives, unnoticed. But I’m the man I’ve always wanted to be.

I did not gain anything that I didn’t already have. No miracles happened. Yet, when I look around, I am so content with all that I have.

And there is no more waiting for me.

Buddhadharma Magazine article & SA Current Newspaper

Thu, 22 Sep 2011 17:54:47 +0100

Photo © Enrique Lopetegui/San Antonio CurrentKiley Jon Clark had drunk himself out of a job, a marriage, and the trust of his children when he happened upon a Buddhist book that changed his life. Now he’s bringing the dharma to others who have fallen on hard times.

Buddhadharma Magazine article:
http://www.thebuddhadharma.com/web-archive/2011/5/16/welcoming-the-homeless.html

San Antonio Current Newspaper:
http://www2.sacurrent.com/blog/queblog.asp?perm=70213

Dealing with these Mothers

Sat, 24 Sep 2011 14:17:50 +0100

I wish you could hear him, my lama, eyes welled up with tears, arms wide embracing the World, telling us about how everyone, everywhere, are all beautiful ‘Mother Beings.’ Beings who have loved us and nurtured us throughout innumerable lifetimes.

To hear Lama Tulku Tsori Rinpoche tell it, not only sentient beings, but everything in the universe, whether plant, animal, mineral, seen or unseen, all of creation are ‘Mother Beings’ whom we should serve, revere, and bless with infinite kindness. Even with this, we will never be able to repay even a small portion of the sacrifices and miseries they have endured in countless lifetimes raising and protecting us from harm.

Rinpoche says when he was a young monk, his teacher made him meditate on being pregnant himself, so he could appreciate what a woman goes through to give birth. But, being such a hard working and diligent student, his teacher would often find him knocking on the door and crying about this at night. And his Root Lama, being disturbed from his sleep, finally took him off this visualization because when he would ask Rinpoche why he was crying, Tulku would say, “ I can’t sleep, the baby is kicking too much!”

There is no doubt in my mind that my Perfect Teacher sees all beings as his mother and perhaps the entire Cosmos as the ‘Mother of all Buddhas.’ But, then there is me.

A guy who once, sitting on the couch with my Lama discussing these things, pressed the ‘ignore’ button on my cell phone because my mom was calling and interrupting our nice visit. I can still remember the look on his face when I said, “It’s just my mom, she’ll call back later, now, tell me more about these ‘Mother-Beings’.”

The thing about it is I am good at seeing the homeless folks that I work with as my previous mothers, and I’m getting better at seeing the people who cut me off in traffic as my previous mothers, and I’m working really hard to stop calling anybody who disagrees with me a ‘Mother!’

But when it comes to my own real mother, a woman who has never done me any harm or said anything deeper to me than, “You want a sandwich?” or “You want some cake?”, she is the very one that I can’t seem to muster up compassion for. It’s not that she hasn’t been a very caring mother; it’s just that, I don’t know her and can’t seem to know her. She had a very abusive childhood, married young to an alcoholic; and she has been full of anxiety, overcome with fear, and doom ridden ever since.

She is the kind of person that never stops moving. Even with Parkinson’s disease and poor health, when she can’t walk, she stands in one spot swaying back and forth, nervously. Mom seems on the verge of panic at all times, and I’ve fantasized about sneaking up behind her and saying, ‘Boo!’ But then I realize that it would require much effort to get her off the ceiling.

So, I am more than happy to let everyone be my ‘Mother-Being’, but I must view them as I do my own mother. All these beings are panicked, confused, worried, troubled, in decline, and like it or not, in need of my help.

Whether I cuss the whole way there, or not, I do go fix my mom’s DVD Player every time she calls. And I do eat her sandwich and cake, and make small talk. I do whatever is asked of me, again and again. There is no choice. This woman is my mother, I am her son. It’s not a “maybe, maybe not” decision, it just goes without saying, I come when she calls and do what needs to be done.

So, here I am surrounded by ‘Mothers’, all sometimes, a pain in my ass. But not helping is not an option.

I’m getting closer, Lama, don’t give up on me.

The body is a Cancer

Mon, 05 Sep 2011 16:02:35 +0100

Where the Buddha Meets the Road

“The Body is a Cancer” by Kiley Jon Clark

Imagine doing your own meditation. You are sitting there minding your own business when suddenly, you feel someone watching you. Some guy is standing across the road glaring at you. You decide to just ignore him, unfortunately, more arrive.

Folks start showing up from all over the World, only to watch you do your own meditation practice. If this was all, it might be fine. But, they have other plans.

Soon, a huge Meditation Center is being erected. Hundreds of people, beeping bobcats, shouting foremans, cranes, dump trucks, and dust whirl around your ordinary, little meditation cushion.

Ok, so you may never have to worry about this happening to you, but from what I’ve read, this is pretty much what happened to Ramana Maharishi.

According to the book, “The Spiritual Teachings of Ramana Maharishi,” it states, “He was born December 29, 1879 in Tiruchuli, Tamil Nadu, South India, the son of Shundaram Ayyar, a scribe and country lawyer, and given the name Venkataraman, which was abbreviated as Ramana.”

“At the age of seventeen he suddenly had an experience of death one day in which he suddenly realized that the body dies but consciousness is not touched by death. Whatever this “I” was, it is immortal.

After this experience Venkataraman lost all interest in things of this world and ultimately left home without his parents’ permission to find his way to the Holy Mountain of Arunachala.”

Which brings us to the fact, that although he wrote very little and spoke less, so awe-inspiring was his presence, that people came from all over the world to build an Ashram around him.

It is my understanding that although a lot of great saints are talked about, Sri Ramana is one of the very few that is openly acknowledged by Christians, Buddhists, Hindus, and most all others, as actually being a “Self-Realized Being” or “Awakened One.”

And although he did speak little, there is one thing that he did say, that I cannot get out of my mind.

Eventually, in his later years, Ramana started losing weight and it became harder for him to get around unaided. So, after much pleading, he was taken to a doctor by his devotees.

The diagnosis was, “Stage four Cancer.”

His followers began to weeping and wailing. They fell at the doctor’s feet begging to know about a “Cure” and “treatments.” But, with his ever present smile, Ramana simply said, “there is no need of treatment” and stood to leave.

For the remainder of his time on Earth, people, cards, telegrams, and letters poured in, each in their own way, begging him to reconsider seeking medical help for his condition.

His one and only comment about the whole situation was both direct and puzzling.

“The body is a Cancer,” he said once while shrugging his shoulders.

Now, here is the thing that has been keeping me up at night. A couple of weeks ago, I took my daughter to a foot specialist to get some warts removed.

Just to make conversation, I asked the Doc, “What causes warts anyway?” I never expected what I was about to hear next. “Leading research says that warts are a virus that can live in standing water like gym showers and even the ocean. Because it is a living organism, I’m treating it with venom extracted from a species of Beetle,” his reply.

Ok, let me preface this by saying that I don’t live in a hippy trippy part of L.A or Miami Beach. This is San Antonio, Texas and this doctor is an older Hispanic man wearing cowboy boots.

I told him that I was amazed and had never thought of warts as being a living thing. And he blew me away even further. “Oh yeah, most of all diseases and sicknesses come from some living, invading organism trying to infiltrate and set-up shop in our body-organism,” he said while applying the “beetle-juice” to my daughter’s foot.

“OK,” I said, “I know that you hear about the flu bug, viruses, bacteria, E. Coli, staph infection and other tiny organisms that make us sick, but what else?”

“Well,” he said while bandaging her foot, “I saw an old man on his death bed become completely free of cancer by drinking water. It’s something called ‘Kanga Water’ and it has something to do with the ‘Fungus’ not being able to survive at that PH level.”

I told him to wait a minute and back up. “Are you saying that cancer is a living ‘fungus’ that can be cured with water?”

“None of this can be proven yet, by it’s my opinion that just like everything else, cancer is a living organism. The body tries to fight it off by producing tumors. There is one doctor who is opening up the infected areas with a scalpel and flushing the area out with Sodium Bicarbanate or Baking Soda, he has a very high percentage rate of folks that recover completely from their cancer.” he said with a smile.

Now, for the last couple of days, this is all that I’ve been thinking about. I remember reading in the ancient Vedas, “All of Life is food for another.”

And, indeed, everything lives off of something else. We feed on plants and animals, and eventually, we will be food for them. It seems, the whole of life, is spent consuming something and producing waste.

Could it be, that in truth, everything including the Earth itself, is some living form sustained by the consumption of another living form?

Is Cancer a type of Fungus? Are warts a Virus? Is the body itself, some form of cancer, as Sri Ramana Maharishi so clearly told us?

Mindfulness and the lost coffee

Mon, 05 Sep 2011 16:02:50 +0100

Where the Buddha Meets the Road

“Mindfulness and the lost coffee” by Kiley Jon Clark

A Buddhist Life, is a life devoted to compassion and discovering the Buddha-nature within ourselves and others.

This was demonstrated; the very first time I shared a meal with my Teacher, Lama Tulku Tsori Rinpoche. I didn't know what Buddhists did before they ate, so I asked him if we should pray or something?

I will never forget what happened next. Then Lama Tulku got his fork, scooped up a single grain of rice and held it up at eye level.

He said, "The only thing that is needed... is that we be completely mindful of how many lives were affected and how much it took to get this single grain of rice to our table today. This rice was planted by people in sweat and toil, it was probably harvested without machinery in some foreign land, with back-breaking labor, there were people in factories washing and packaging it, and folks loading and unloading it onto boats, and truck drivers, all of these people with lives, families, and troubles of their own, and all of them working to get this tiny grain of rice to our table today.

And we are to be especially mindful of the cows that gave their lives for us today and the chickens who gave their lives for us today."

Then Lama Tsori said, "If you are mindful of all of these things when you eat, there is no need to pray and no negative karma created with the eating, and if you can go through life with these kind of things in mind...life become very precious.”

Now, I can’t tell you, that I think about all those things when I slam down a Sloppy-Joe...but I can tell you about a Zen Moment that happens to me almost every day. I come into work every morning with a creamy, sweet cup of coffee. At 8 o'clock my work-day starts.

I run between four or five different buildings doing the cleaning and fixing this and that. At some point, during the day, it never fails, I will be back in the same building for the fourth time, and I will look up and there will be my coffee sitting on a shelf, a water heater, or some toilet paper box.

And there will be a split-second of surprise. I'll be surprise...like "Hey, alright! I still got coffee left!" And I'll take that first swig....and man, is it sooooo sweet!

Those moments are an entire universe in themselves, and can happen all the time, just by being grateful about the small gifts that life gives you.

there is no philosophizing here...

Mon, 05 Sep 2011 16:30:41 +0100

Where the Buddha Meets the Road

“there is no philosophizing here” by Kiley Jon Clark

All that is happening is just “WHAT IT IS”, straight forward, Truth. My hands are in the toilet, there is no philosophizing here, my work boots are covered with blood and spit of the homeless, there is no philosophizing here, outside the window a black man is screaming obscenities at his "so-called" wife who is white and toothless, there is no philosophizing here, an old woman turns circles in the same spot with everything she owns on her back, there is no going home for her....and there is no philosophizing here."

Release the Bees!

Mon, 05 Sep 2011 14:26:34 +0100

Where the Buddha Meets the Road

“Release the Bees!” by Kiley Jon Clark

When I worked at the State Hospital with folks that were Mentally Challenged, people always told me, “God bless you, son. You’re going to have “Rewards in Heaven” for you work!” But when I would tell them about all the volunteer opportunities there, it seemed they didn’t care much for these rewards in Heaven themselves.

Then, when I went to work at a Children’s Home as a Houseparent to twelve teenage boys, they all agreed that I was one “Wonderful person.” When I told them about all the volunteer opportunities there, it seemed they would have to pass on being “Wonderful.”

Now that I work full-time and teach meditation three times a week at a Homeless facility, the praise never stops. One fella told me, “You create more positive Merit in one day than most folks do in an entire life-time.” So, I told him, “Cool. Come spend a day with me.” He maintained a Noble Silence.

As for me, I have this funny feeling. See, I teach an ‘On the Job’ Training Course in the Custodial Arts to the Homeless. And on our list of things to do, is a trash route consisting of thirty two big, outside trash cans.

We take the full bags of trash out of the can, throw it into a Trash Buggy on wheels, and put a new bag in the can. Many of these trash bags are full of Honey Bees. You don’t see them at first. They are way down in the bottom dinning on all the goodies.

But, by the time we get the buggy to the huge Trash Compactor, they’re all buzzing around the air pockets near the top of these bags.

So, what do we do before throwing these bags into the Hydralic, Crushing Monster? We untie each bag and release the bees, of course.

If there is a “Life Review” in the Bardo after death, I don’t think it will focus so much on the Mentally Challenged, the teenagers at the Children’s Home, or the Homeless folk that I’ve had the great pleasure to befriend. Like I said, I got this funny feeling,

I think it’s just going to be a short film about some really happy Bees.

Suddenly, from the Void

Mon, 05 Sep 2011 16:33:50 +0100

Where the Buddha Meets the Road

“Suddenly, from the Void.” by Kiley Jon Clark

I was alone for the first time in my life. I mean, really alone.

Here I was, living in a tiny apartment, because after seventeen years of marriage, she could no longer accept my drinking.

I was a good provider. We had the house, cars and grass to mow. I wasn't there emotionally for her or the kids. I had become my father, I guess. So, one day in early 2005, she just loaded up the kids and left. She got an apartment. I couldn't be in that house without them, so I got an apartment of my own.

Learning how to be alone and sober was brutal. Sometimes at night, my body would be so hot, that my sheets would be completely soaked with sweat. If I pulled them off, it was so cold that my teeth chattered. I would hear people arguing outside, but when I'd look, no one was there. Later, I found out that these are called the 'Alcoholic DTs' but at the time, I had no idea what was happening to me. I did know one thing, however.

I knew the meaning of 'loneliness' when no one comes to see you, answers your calls, or invites you over. Your inescapable, Infinite Sadness is too much for anyone to bear. And even your own soul looks at you from across the room and says, 'I wanna flee, man. I gotta go, I can't be around you like this anymore."

No wife telling me what to do and no kids running down the hall screaming and spilling things. I had always thought, “I wish everyone would just leave me alone!” And now I had gotten my wish. It was a big, empty, misguided wish for a big empty misguided fool.

My chair faced the open window, where I stared out into the hopelessness street, with the hopeless cars, full of hopeless people, and the hopeless birds flying in a hopeless sky...and sometimes at night when the clouds would part, a big sad hopeless moon weeping.

Wanting to take a sharp object to my wrist, I instead took up a pen and wrote a letter to a Guru, “You must help me, Meaningless Life, Eternal Depression. Only you can help me. Only you can direct my steps back to the Path. Only you can help me cut through this intolerable ignorance. Only you can restore my sanity and show me the Buddha-Nature.” And I signed it, “Groping In the Darkness.”

Walking down the barren streets at midnight, I kissed the letter and dropped it into the outgoing mailbox.

The next afternoon, to my great surprise, a response had already come.

Although, to my dismay, I soon discovered, that I had written the return address in the wrong place. I had written a letter to the one who could save me, and mailed it to myself.

I had written a letter to the one who could save me, and mailed it to myself.