thelerner

Hmnn, are you trying to justify something?? The ease of taking a mind altering drug instead of the discipline of meditation?

You don't have to get all of them at once. Its not a race, each video will take weeks or months to go through and digest. Winn also has very good pieces on Youtube like the simple powerful Pangu form: as well many good articles at the HT usa web site.

Reminds me of Kaishan Golden Bell chi gung. Lots of rubbing and circular pounding of the stomach. There was a standing meditation then you'd rub your belly with an herbal elixir, then over weeks and months you'd hit your stomach in a circular fashion increasingly harder, from open handed slaps to harder fists, then a herbal sand bag, then a wooden brick (treated w/ herbs). There was similar protocols for feet arms etc., In the last stages you'd have others whacking you pretty hard with a stick. It was much less masochistic then it sounds. The idea was you were stimulating and building internal strength. I did a few months in it, like many gungs it required a 100 days of celibacy which didn't jive well with me at the time. They had some nice supplemental practices too.

I'd say too much desire/obsessing for change is bad, but in my opinion taoism is about a path. I'm not a stone or plant, I'm a man. I move, accepting and causing change. As a living organism some things are favorable to my growth and it behooves me to move towards them.

I'd wager being 16 has more effect on chi circulation then the color part. Being young you're likely to be very yang. You can compliment what you naturally have by learning yin, to sit empty. On the third hand your individuality trumps age and color.

I recommend a fantastic travel book to you, 'The Gods Drink Whiskey, Stumbling for Enlightenment in the Land of the Tattered Buddha'. Well written, a bit more Cambodia then Thailand, but you'll get a wonderful sense of the place. Despite the tittle its not about a 'drinkfest', its about a professor of Buddhism going to teach in Cambodia and his travels there. He beautifully captures the reality and wonders of the people and religion, as well as the trials of an American in the East. Its one of the books I picked up at the library then had to buy for my collection. Here's an amazon link: www.amazon.com/Gods-Drink-Whiskey-Stumbling.../0060834501 I'm reminded of the book 'Iron and Silk' for a touch of an American teaching english and studying hard core martial arts in China, or for an Aikido approach in Japan 'Dirty White Pajamas'. There's probably a perfect travel adventure book out there written by someone in just your situation who's come back.

What should we expect from divination? I've liked having my fortune done, mostly for its value as a Rorschach test, making me focus on specific aspects of my life. I see I Ching and tarot as good examples of this, versus other mediums that portend to be very specific.

Hmnn.. a duck..sprayed with perfume. No.. ..I.. don't know, but it'd cool to plant in my garden.

Useful until they stab you in the back and take over your life. If you don't think you'd be a good slave, I wouldn't create a clone. Perhaps a better solution to a busy life comes from the Zen fable about a monk complaining to his teacher about the cold. The teacher said 'Go to the place it is not cold'. I've always understood that to mean surrender to the place you are and to what you are doing. You'll find you have all the time in the world, because all time is encapsulated in the present.

In college I was getting way to top heavy. Too many books not enough .. living, experience, doing. Put'em down worked on martial arts and life for a few years. It was good. Nowadays I'll spend years collecting & reading books, then years thinking they're all bullshit and did I spend the time reading them. It's a kind of a balance I guess. Reading the books and listening to lectures gives me insights and knowledge from people far wiser then I am. But unless I can assimilate the wisdom it may well be an infomercial. And I won't truly get 'it' if I'm too busy chasing other pieces. semi random thought On the third hand if we we say drop all ism's but Taoism we can be in danger of coming from the same space as bigots.

I myself charge $100,000, but I'm still looking for that worthy very very rich student

I've read as a person becomes more spiritual they become more androgynous. Glenn Morris made the case well in one of his books. Still, subtract extreme spirituality and I think men (as a whole) are more aggressive and woman(due to holes) more nurturing. Beyond social roles, its in our genes, one small tribe in new guinea accepted. Like the other thread, extreme spirituality is 1 in 100's, 1 in 1,000(?), hell monks make a teeny part of 1% of the population. I'd also say Tao talks about accepting your nature, so a Taoist practitioner might not follow the androgynous model and be quite an individual.

ditto, poverty might be a mindset, but hunger isn't. Neither is living in fear of losing your job and not being able to provide food, shelter and stability for yourself and family. A monks life might be a very painful one for the majority of people.

In ki aikido we'd meditate in seiza(on knees) w/ eyes in half closed, focused down a few feet ahead of us. It kept the back straight and a sharper level of attention to meditation. Also pain, though in younger days you could sit through it til the legs went to sleep.

I consider zhan zhauang to be standing meditation and zuowang to be seated emptiness meditation, and kunlun to be a chair seated meditation w/ hands (& feet) in a mudra. For sitting and forgetting I prefer to sit in half lotus (I can't do full comfortably) give myself some instructions to clear my mind, then just sit. After kunlun there's an after practice period where you do relatively the same. In formal kunlun 1 position my body may rock but I'm not in a deep meditative state. In Zhan Zhang, I get peaceful, but again not as deep as I get in half lotus. This is my experience others will differ. To throw another practice into the mix, in Stillness-Movement meditation is similar to regular emptiness but hands on on dantien and a slight natural rocking is allowed. The rocking releases tension and allows me to sit longer.

Synchronicity, I was just reading that blog 2 days ago. Seems like she's a highly disciplined raw foodie. Imo a 21 day water only fast can be dangerous. Nothing wrong with danger but it'd probably be safer to do start small, do a few days fast, a few months later a week fast, a few months later a two weeks etc., Get to know yourself and your body before doing something that extreme.

I am not the expert Seth is. I do practice kareeza sometimes, ie non ejaculatory sex. Which is not multi-orgasmic, for me it's just backing off when I run too hot. I use relaxation, deep breathing, and feeling the vowel of long Aaeeei in my crown (its what I do, Ooos, Ohs & Ums bad). I don't think I lose energy doing kareeza, matter of fact the problem is I get increasingly hornier. I think its a big testosterone boost, which can create problems with aggressiveness. At 16 I wouldn't worry too much about ejaculation, unless your heading for monkhood. It's great to practice self discipline, but at 16.. you're fighting powerful tides of nature. Don't get too hung up on it. It's always a good idea to store energy into the dan-tien. Most traditions have you rub the area in a circle a number of times or at least put relaxed concentration there afterward meditation or any esoteric practice. You want energy there, not floating around your head.

good points. lately i find when i try to be egoless i'm as much of a dick as before, maybe more so because i'm not editing myself.

I don't think the ego is happy. At least not for long. I think the ego is all about me me me, more more more.

I write, here's what I consider one of my more moving stories: Paper Planes of September By thelerner Jonathon was back in his office. His chair was tall and covered in soft leather. He was dressed in a formal navy blue suit, what his mentor called a clone suit, almost identical to all the outfit’s the men wore in the office. Only a colorful tie, which she had bought, set him apart. His computer was the latest technology, a Pentium 3, with 2 monitors attached. Numbers scrolled across the screens. He was supposed to analyzing them, strategizing for what would happen in the days global bond market, instead he sat staring vacantly ahead. Only when a low grinding mechanical sound caught his attention did his face show any attention. He looked around for the source, wondered briefly what it was, then gave up. His eyes remained vacant but a slight tension remained in his face. His fingers reached for paper. Without looking he slowly folded a paper airplane, the simplest kind, the classic dart. Once finished he wrote the name Marty Weinger on it. Marty was his office neighbor to the right. He tossed it forcefully, it hit the wall, bending its tip and landed in the silver waste paper basket. His fingers folded another, the thick water mark paper held the shape well. His shiny metal pen wrote Sally Find, the name of the soon to leave pregnant receptionist. He threw this one lighter, it wafted down up down then disappeared into the basket. On the third he wrote Able Patel, the name of the office's mail boy and all around fetch it guy. Marty had been calling him Gunga Din behind his back, claiming it was a compliment for his buoyant attitude. The Patel plane hit the wall hard, breaking its nose, its body hit the rim, more out then in, but fell backwards into the can. Their superior Barbara Pace had laid out the law to Marty, ‘don't call anyone a name behind the back you wouldn't call them to their face‘. She added that Able's enthusiastic attitude was what helped them stand the more negative elements in the office. The grinding sound was getting louder, Jonathon’s fingers moved faster. Planes for Joshua, Alex, Patricia and Manuel were all folded and tossed, only Alex's missed. On the next plane he wrote Barbara. Years earlier she'd been the token woman the firm hired to fend off discrimination complaints. She'd come to prove herself the most astute analyst they had. Not the biggest money maker, but matchless in her ability understand and explain the markets hidden intricacies. She'd been his mentor in the early days, showing him everything from how to understand cross currency irregularities to how to make the perfect paper flyer. Her long fingernails giving her a decided advantage. As he picked up the plane and drew it back the door opened. Barbara walked in. She asked if she could get him a drink from the new Seattle coffee shop that had just opened on the corner. Her kindness and sense of security never ceased to amaze him. He murmured “No, no mud for me”, then asked her a question, "Why do some planes fall in and others don't?" "Chaos theory" she replied, "Somewhere in the building a door opens, it creates a breeze. The breeze doesn't die, no energy does. It moves unseen in ways that seem random, gathering and separating.” "Is Chaos bad, Barbara?" "Good and Bad are personal. I've got to go now" she said and turned. He whispered, "Don't leave" but she was already gone. He threw her plane a little to the left, it curved in flight and landed in the bin. The grinding grew louder. It was getting intolerable. Suddenly it was drown out by a crash. It sounded like dishes were breaking, loudly. A high shelf gave way, crashing through the next one and every shelf under it. It kept going long after it should have stopped. Fine, irreplaceable china being crushed to dust he imagined. Finally it stopped, but the ever-present groaning went on. A new sound was added, the building's fire alarm. He split apart, one Jonathon staying seated, the other getting up to leave, joining others in a crush, moving down the stair well. They passed a fireman talking on a radio and climbing in the opposite direction. Black letters on man's yellow jacket read Smith. The other part of him, sitting in the office wrote Smith on an airplane and let if fly. There was no smoke but the stairway smelled of sulphur and burnt metal, as if they were descending into hell. The smoke didn’t hit till he was on the first floor. Two policemen were there, Officers Briggs and Meyerson hustling people towards the outer doors. Forty floors above, Jonathon wrote their names down on the same plane, with a flick of the wrist it flew directly into the waste paper basket. At ground level, the Jonathon below was in chaos. He moved through toxic darkness rubbing against other desperate people. For Jonathon above, the noise stopped and the building shook. He put the finishing folds on the plane and wrote his name, Jonathon Goldwin. He aimed, once, twice, and let if fly, staring intently at it. It tilted in flight, hit the wall, touched the rim and balanced there for a second. Then, then he woke up. Chest heaving, body chilled. As his eyes opened he willed himself to forget the nightmare; push it into the place where dreams lie forgotten. The emotional impact faded, details began slipping. Slipping until his eyes focused on a crinkled paper on his night stand. Along a crease was his name and a smiley face in neat feminine hand writing. Now the waking nightmare began, memories of a place unseen. Where a woman on a roof top, amongst the screaming and burning, folded paper airplanes, wrote her goodbyes and let them fly. Here's a few lighter pieces. Hmnnn Poetry: There once was a man who loved Tao He went around saying Om Padmi Kow Enlightened he wasn't Said his second cousin So today he just goes with the flow A man tried to live without regrets He searched for all of lifes secrets He traveled the earth before sitting in dirt and said its time I began seeking egret There was a leprechaun by the name of O'Denty Who called others nasty names a plenty O'Denty my dear, the whole world's a mirror You'll end up feeling so sad and empty ... tibet .. would let .. met ... secret .. screw it There was a young maid from tibet who slept with everyone she met The monks were alarmed There celibacy harmed Til the abbot told them to screw it.

A man once told a Buddha, "I want happiness." The Buddha replied, First remove 'I', that's ego. Then remove 'want', that's desire. And now all you're left with is Happiness.

I'll go back to the original answers. It takes time. Your attempt at 'cures' may have extended the 'mourning' period. You keep focusing on her, that's got to stop, not with pills, potions or acupuncture, just get on with your life. Stay busy, try something new. Time will heal it. Keep your focus on something else as much as you can.

listens for thoughts {... .. . }

I'd say set short terms, mid term, and longer term goals. Take time to enjoy each day. Life's challenge is to live each day completely whether its the last or not. We only live about 30,000 days. I don't know about the world ending, but We will end, and hopefully look back at a life well spent.

There was a time I fought against poetry in the Contributed Article section because I thought it diluted from 'real' articles. Poems are great, but articles are supposed to be long thoughtful stand alone pieces of writing, done without the expectation of discussion. Poems have become the norm and well written solid articles are pushed down pages as people express there poetic license. The lesson may be you can't stop the poets. They're like graffiti artists, but maybe we can create a subforum in articles and move the bulk of poems there!! What do you think? Michael 'Get off my Lawn' thelerner