returning the gift

October 4th, 2010    -    68 Comments

Between the giver, the receiver and the gift there is no separation – Maezumi Roshi

The world can seem stingy, competitive and cruel. Or it can seem generous, welcoming and kind. A single gift can make the difference, and it always comes back to us. The gift we offer is the same gift we receive. Like the coffee we put into our cup, what we pour out is what we drink in: all of it an inseparable extension of our own hand.

The world I share with author Katrina Kenison is welcoming and kind, because she is, and she brings that out in me. It does me no good to bemoan how rare this quality is in any of the realms I occupy. Cups look empty until we fill them again.

In Katrina’s two books, Mitten Strings for God, and The Gift of an Ordinary Day, she welcomes us into a world infused with natural wisdom. She is the kind of mother we all are, aiming to change her family life for the better amid the inevitable undertow of change itself. She doesn’t pretend to know how. She doesn’t make any self-satisfied assessments. She simply follows her instincts into blind curves and doubt. Settle into the pages of her memoirs and what spills out is the fullness in every mother’s wistful heart. read more

more dalai in your lama

September 29th, 2010    -    15 Comments

Warning: Falling rocks ahead.

A few months ago, a young newspaper reporter asked me a very good question, the kind of question that comes from the mouths of keenly observant babes:

“Do you encounter resistance because you don’t fit the stereotype of a Buddhist teacher?”

Honestly, I had never presumed as much, but it makes sense given the human proclivity to idealize and worship images.

Some people might like a little more Dalai in their Lama, I laughed.

I know I did, at least when I was starting out. And I know that most of us still do, taking a measure of comfort and even confidence when a teacher appears to be so altogether other, so unattainably spiritual, so removedly saintly. It must have drawn me closer, then, when Maezumi Roshi fit the bill of a short, smiling, impish Asian. He was nothing that I thought him to be, but his appearance upheld my standard of the real thing.

Being Maezumi, being a man, being an American, I once heard him say to describe his life, to no one in the room who believed him. We had a stake in him being a holy man.

Why this comes up I’m not so sure, although it may have something to do with an email I received yesterday telling me about a public talk by a revered Buddhist author. The talks are rare, I was told, and routinely sold out. There might not ever be another one, the message urged. I could get on the bandwagon and even make a little profit from the books I sold through my website.

All those things may be true, but this line of thinking does not sit with me, and so I sit with it. read more

a wing and a prayer

September 27th, 2010    -    47 Comments

Do Buddhists pray? This Buddhist does.

Parenthood is like continuous prayer, and these days I’ve been praying a lot:
Dear Lord, let it just be allergies.
Dear Lord, let her sneakers still fit.
Dear Lord, let the lunchbox come home empty.
Dear Lord, let me see her smile.

No matter who or what you pray to, prayer works. If you’re looking for a modern miracle, I say, “Pray.” I don’t have a theological explanation for it, but prayer seems to work by itself. We gather our agitated worries into the palms of our hands, a single point of contemplation, and by our utterance, we release them. We are immediately calmed and comforted by our own action, regardless of any eventual outcomes. For me, prayer is a continuous loop of supplication, surrender and consolation.

Even though it’s not just allergies.
The sneakers no longer fit.
She traded her lunch for someone else’s.
But because the smile, the smile, I still see. read more

love is solid ground

September 23rd, 2010    -    6 Comments

A preciously dear friend has lately recalled light once seen and fallen drunkenly in love with eyesight. She sends me poems each day like valentines and I cannot resist sharing them. Yes, yes, love sees everything exactly as it is, and walks on it, barefoot.

The Opening of Eyes

That day I saw beneath dark clouds
the passing light over the water
and I heard the voice of the world speak out,
I knew then, as I had before
life is no passing memory of what has been
nor the remaining pages in a great book
waiting to be read.

It is the opening of eyes long closed.
It is the vision of far off things seen for the silence they hold.
It is the heart after years of secret conversing
speaking out loud in the clear air.
It is Moses in the desert
fallen to his knees before the lit bush.
It is the man throwing away his shoes
as if to enter heaven
and finding himself astonished,
opened at last,
fallen in love with solid ground.

– David Whyte

Photo of the Portland Japanese Garden. Come meet me on that ground, Oct. 15-16.

hello my name is

September 21st, 2010    -    11 Comments

There exists only the present instant, a Now which always and without end is
itself new. There is no yesterday or any tomorrow, but only Now, as it was a
thousand years ago and as it will be a thousand years hence. – Meister Eckhart

My teacher Nyogen Roshi sent that quote to me in an email recently, suggesting that “you might find it useful in one of your upcoming programs.” Emailing is something we do sparingly, our relationship resting solely on the alchemy of face-to-face proximity. The rarity of his emails ensures that they are highly visible; the fact is, every email I receive is itself rare and highly visible to me, or my practice has lapsed, as Meister Eckhart observes.

On Saturday at the Mother’s Plunge in Boston, I started the way I always start – by introducing myself. “My name is Karen Maezen Miller,” I said, and go on to tell them that “Karen is the name my mother gave me, Maezen is the name my Buddhist teacher gave me, and Miller is the name Mr. Miller gave me.” I use all three names, and in that way I carry forward three streams of wisdom inextricable to every moment of my life and work. My name is not just my name. It is my teaching. When I state my name I am also stating my practice: the realization that no part of my life is more or less important. No part battles with another because there are no parts. It is all one life and all one practice.

Among the many practical aspects of Zen training is the protocol of its form: the way certain customs are prescribed and therefore serve to eradicate self-consciousness and confusion. Zen training tells us where to put our arms and legs, for instance, which is a question of considerable consternation for most of us most of the time. Practical too is the protocol of my formal practice in the dokusan room, the private interview room within which I meet and work with my teacher face-to-face. Although I have practiced with Nyogen Roshi for 10 years, every time I meet with him in dokusan, which is at least once a week (and once a day during retreats) I begin by introducing myself. read more

absence of explanation

September 16th, 2010    -    2 Comments

In the absence of an explanation, Amazon is currently telling its customers that it could take up to four months to get a paperback copy of Hand Wash Cold. Need I tell you this is a bold-faced lie? A scheming way to rev up backorders and Kindle sales?

I’ll simply tell you to go here, to the web home of of the artfully inexplicable Terri Fischer, to nab your own free copy. She has numerous gifts to bestow, and she’s not withholding them. There you will see, absent explanation, not only how to get the laundry, but your own life back.

all mother, no hood

September 14th, 2010    -    16 Comments

I think I’ll set my alarm in the morning, she said.
It was the last night before the first day of fifth grade.
I think I’ll get dressed before breakfast, she told herself.
A starting day delayed by state budget cuts and teacher furloughs, compounded by peculiarities of the calendar, had me bracing for a hard reveille on this, the 14th of September already.
I want to be early.
I was still in bed when she tapped me gently on the shoulder. I opened my eyes to see her beside me in her new, first-day dress, hair brushed, jacket on, standing noble and ready, like Liberty herself.
She whispered.
Good morning, Mommy.

This is the kind of day that jolts you into a reality so easily forgotten – a cataclysmic moment when you realize life’s perpetual motion, when you experience for yourself the awesome rush of the scientific fact that there is no such thing as solid ground. There is no permanent state, no place to dwell. Here we are in the middle of motherhood, and there’s no ‘hood to hold onto. We are all, indeed, the mothers of exiles, heartbreakingly homeless and free.

As so often happens without accident, my friend and fellow author Amy Tiemann is musing about this very topic today, and you should read her here and respond here. We should all read and wonder and weep, but not in grief. Our children grow up. Do we?

We walked down the sloping sidewalk to the fifth grade bungalows and she leaned in closer.
I’m nervous, she said. I’m terrified, actually.
I assured her that this, yes, this, would be her finest year, her greatest time, her crowning glory. I have no doubt it will be.
Her friends in range, she walked faster in front as I hauled the sacks of school supplies to her classroom. I lost her in the surge.
Georgia, I called out, do you need me?
She turned back and waved.

I’m crying now, but not in loss. Crying is what mothers do with the fullness that can’t be kept, with the love that never ends. Cry, and wave, and hold a flame along the way that grows longer away.

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look at why I practice

September 13th, 2010    -    9 Comments

An acknowledgment of all those who joined me yesterday at the Beginner’s Mind Meditation Retreat at the Hazy Moon Zen Center. You know who you are. More importantly, you are beginning to really know who you are.

When wisdom is a concept, look how ignorant I am in the name of wisdom.
When love is a concept, look how hateful I am in the name of love.
When charity is a concept, look how greedy I am in the name of charity.
When kindness is a concept, look how mean I am in the name of kindness.
When beauty is a concept, look at what I defile in the name of beauty.
When freedom is a concept, look who I imprison in the name of freedom.
When truth is a concept, look who I deceive in the name of truth.
When faith is a concept, look how fearful I am in the name of faith.
When peace is a concept, look how much chaos I create in the name of peace.
When life and death are concepts, look what I destroy in the name of life.

To overcome my own ignorance, hate, greed, meanness, defilement, imprisonment, deception, fear, chaos and death. This is why I practice.

If you’re on the other coast, there’s still time to join me this Sat., Sept. 18 at the Mother’s Plunge in Boston. I’ll be looking for you!

random acts

September 13th, 2010    -    No Comments

Announcing the winners of last week’s book giveaways, all randomly drawn:

The winner of Brad Warner’s new Sex, Sin and Zen: Kendra, commenter #14

The winner of Hand Wash Cold: Kristin, commenter #43

The winner of Sitting Moon and Momma Zen: Jessica, commenter #14

“When we notice life, really notice, it is the birth of everlasting goodness. We might see through the illusion we’ve created for ourselves, as separate and inviolable, and do something nice for a change.” – Hand Wash Cold

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sitting moon

September 10th, 2010    -    47 Comments

Mei Mei (little sister), after you give birth, it is extremely important for me to come and live with you for a month. I’ll take care of you so that you can experience the proper Zuo Yue Zi.” – A mother to her daughter in Sitting Moon

“Where once, in recent history and ancient practices, families of women surrounded women at this hour, now so many of us have so few.” – Momma Zen

Zuo Yue Zi literally translates as “sitting month,” or “moon.” Ancient cultures cared for new mothers with the same attention devoted to newborns, swaddling them in a cocoon of nourishment, rest and reverence lasting a full lunar cycle after giving birth. During a time when we might think of a month with relatives as less than optimal – and most of us have little or no help at all – Sitting Moon outlines the modern equivalent of postpartum wisdom drawn from the ancient feminine.

With plainspoken simplicity, the authors (both professionals in the field of Chinese medicine) air the litany of unthinkables that greet us in the long and isolating months after giving birth, as we otherwise stumble toward some fractured “normal” of emotional and physical health. The book seasons its common sense with clear diagnostics, helpful tips, recommended foods and Chinese herbs, acupressure directions and a full four-week meal plan with recipes – for someone else to cook for you! – geared to the natural sequence of rejuvenation.

In the view of Oriental medicine, a lifetime of chronic ills can be traced to the postpartum period – that mysterious and irrevocable transition when life changes in every way forever. Sitting Moon is what I would have given myself, if I’d had the means to ask. So now I’ll give it to you.

Enter my giveaway for a copy of Sitting Moon: A Guide to Natural Rejuvenation After Pregnancy by leaving a comment on this post. I’ll pair the prize with a signed copy of Momma Zen – two must-haves that give a new mama all the light of the mother moon.

Give yourself an extra chance by tweeting the following (make sure you get the URL):

RT @kmaezenmiller Double Giveaway: Sitting Moon & Momma Zen http://bit.ly/dvg8Rs

Note to readers: Amazon supplies are running low; Sitting Moon is also available directly from the Tao of Wellness.

This is the grand finale in my week of book giveaways, but there’s still time to enter Monday’s giveaway and Wednesday’s giveaway (as many times as you like) before the contest closes at midnight this Sunday, Sept. 12. Thank you for sharing this fortune with me!

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unfailingly generous

September 8th, 2010    -    86 Comments

When I first heard that Lori Deschene of the hugely popular inspirational site Tiny Buddha was going to review Hand Wash Cold, I wondered how she would define my life’s work.

After all, plenty of people don’t like the book, and a goodly number don’t hesitate to say so. Compared to Momma Zen‘s sweetly sentimental musings about the transcendent love of motherhood, Hand Wash Cold can smack some people upside the head like a wet, stinky dishrag. As Deschene writes:

Most of us don’t want to be ordinary. We want to be special. We want to live bold, extraordinary lives punctuated by moments of passion, excitement, and adventure.

We want to fill our days with people, things, and activities that make us feel vibrant, and outsource the rest to someone else – someone paid to handle the mundane.

We want to discover something, uncover something, build something, invent something, found something, prove something – be something. We want to be extraordinary. We want to be excellent. We want to be great – or at least moving in that direction.

I don’t write about how to do any of that. I don’t write about the life all of us wish we had. You can read something else if you’re still looking for that. Almost anything else will deliver the promise of escape to somewhere – anywhere – else. Instead, as Deschene says about my approach:

She turns herself inside out to reveal her vulnerability, her ego, her humanity – everything you might assume doesn’t exist underneath the trappings of priesthood. She is unfailingly generous in sharing her own journey to right here and now.

Despite my failings, Tiny Buddha has inspired me to be unfailingly generous all over again.  I’m giving away a signed copy of Hand Wash Cold right here and now. Leave a comment to enter. Double your chances by tweeting the following.

RT @kmaezenmiller Giveaway: Hand Wash Cold http://bit.ly/a3rxE0

Note to Readers: Hand Wash Cold is on back order at Amazon, but personally signed copies are always available on the Books page of my website. Click “Special Friends Offer”

It’s giveaway week! I’ll be giving away books on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Check back and enter often. Winners for all three, including, Brad Warner’s latest eyebrow-raiser, drawn next Sunday, Sept. 12.

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fill-in-the-blank sex

September 6th, 2010    -    60 Comments

I read Brad Warner’s new book and panted over it. It’s called Sex, Sin and Zen: A Buddhist Exploration of Sex from Celibacy to Polyamory and Everything in Between. If you’d like to have more ___ in your life, enter my giveaway of the book by leaving a message on this post.

Brad is very clever, but what matters more is that Brad is very clear. Clarity about ___, let alone clarity about the practice of Buddhism, is rare.

Nothing new can be said about sex, nor does it need to be said. The obsession with sex is just a placeholder for all ego-driven delusions about life and death. Everything we think and say about sex applies to any other delusion.  If only I had more ___ I’d be satisfied. I need ___ right now or I’ll go crazy! If you really loved me, you’d give me  ___.  Everyone seems like they have better ___ than I do. I can’t live without ___!

I don’t know nearly as much about sex as Brad Warner does (like, what is polyamory?) but Brad knows his followers and reads their minds.  What’s on their minds is “Sex sex sex!” From time to time, my readers think about sex as well, but what troubles them more often is something like this, “We’re out of Palmolive Antibacterial.” read more

the unlabors of love

September 1st, 2010    -    1 Comment

“See how the lilies of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.”
– Matthew 6:28

I spent Monday with a friend whom I don’t see as often as I’d like. We sat outside in the shade while our daughters splashed in the last shimmers of summer. It’s been a busy season for her: always steering one child here or there, another starting behind the wheel, the eldest packed and gone for the first year of college. “This is the only time all summer I’ve sat down,” my friend said, sinking deep and slow into the weave of a warm lounge chair. I said little, and yet she relaxed into my every word, even into the pauses between the words.

This long weekend we welcome another friend and her daughter from the Midwest. She told me that since I saw her last in May she’s sold her home, moved into another and transitioned her father into a retirement center. I’m plumping up the sofa bed so she can sink into the quiet of this simple house and not lift another thing, at least for four days.

We have an enormous capacity to love one another simply by showing up. Really, that’s all I ever do! If you grant yourself the time to show up here in return, I have two things for you to relish over this Labor Day Weekend. They are the unlabors of my love, and they will bring you rest. read more

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