When you fall in love with a buddha, and forget about your friends

I have been lucky lately to learn a very important truth in creating successful love.
In the past six months or so, I have alas had many valued friends disappear into the overwhelming happiness of their romantic relationships. Although this has of course been rather frustrating on my end, because they are wonderful people whose company I valued, I can by no means blame anyone who succumbs to such a pitfall.

When I think about what I am searching for in love, I can best describe it as looking to find my partner in kosen-rufu, someone who I will not only work to create world peace with, but someone who I can build a loving relationship with which is so strong that it inspires everyone who sees it with hope and warm fuzzies.

Though it is not my tradition, I pick up a copy of the Shambhala Sun every so often. This fall, an issue featured writings on relationship as path. One interview was with the leader of the Shambhala tradition, and his wife who recently got married in Boulder. When asked about what they thought was the major cause of the high divorce rate in our country, they both agreed it was the pressure we put on the couple relationship, and cited that in addition to their daily spiritual practice, the best thing they do for their relationship with each other is to invest in their relationships with their family, friends, and community.

I know that during a breakup, "friendship", as Jane Austen says, "is the finest balm". If our friends can nourish our souls in times of pain, than it is reasonable to assume that they can also fortify our hearts to be even more loving with our partners. Shouldn't love serve to connect us deeply to the world, rather than giving us an excuse to isolate? And don't forget that a relationship seems even better when you are reminded of how special it is by showing off your couple-hood, or by taking a breath with someone else to not only remember who YOU are but also to appreciate how great it feels to be with your partner and not to take that for granted. I believe that relationships have the potential to bring us such happiness. That god is best found in the smallest space between two people. But its too much pressure to find that only in one person.

So to those of you who have disappeared into the vortex of relationship land, I say on behalf of all good friends, call us back. You are missed.

and for those of you who have found love, and have not forgotten: Thank You.

May you be happy, peaceful, and loved (by lots of people!)

Janey

an echo

As might be apparent by the naming of this blog, I have always had a deep connection to versions of myself. I think as kids, we always dream of who we will become, but this relationship with future and past Janey's is an important one for me, and I've wished on many occasions I could have an experience like that Bruce Willis movie, go give my former selves a big old hug, and tell them what they needed to hear, remind my future selves of what they have forgotten. Today, I had what will likely be the closest I get to that happening.

Five years ago, my 17 year old self wrote a letter to her 22 year old self as an assignment for a high school psychology class. My teacher kept them until now, and mailed them the other day. When I opened it up this evening, not recognizing the writing on the envelope as my own, I was a little overwhelmed by a sense of love for myself and everything and everyone who has been apart of my path up to this point.
This letter came as some wonderful proof that every day I am making the choice to be the person I have always wanted to be, and such choices on a small scale have amounted to a lot. It feels very good to know you are on the right path.

Here is one of the best hopes of my 17 year old self:
"remember: be known for your smiles, love, and love with courage, even when its not being given, don't regret not having loved. "

If I am thankful for anything, it is that this is not a lesson I have forgotten.

May you love with a lion's heart,
janey

Janey and the Magical Ukulele

I've had a rather prolific week creatively, which has got me thinking a lot about what the benefits of chanting really are.

Often, when first introduced to the practice of Nichiren Buddhism, we often explain to guests the rather spooky benefits that come from chanting. That your desires, even physical or materialistic ones, can be fulfilled.

When I first heard this as someone who had practiced before as a Buddhist in the Shambhala tradition, I thought it was pretty silly. Buddhism doesn't condone desires, right? Isn't that what all those teachings about detachment are about? Isn't it pretty darn superficial and selfish for me to spend time doing something for my own wishes when I could be spending my time saving the world?

When I started chanting, it was honestly more about solidifying a legitimate identity as a Buddhist and finding a community than getting anything else out of it. After almost a year and a half of chanting, I've had my fair share of spooky benefits, however this week I feel like I really understand what the heart of these benefits are.

This fall, during a time when I was overwhelmed by my own fundamental darkness, I caved and got in my car one afternoon to finally go to my doctor and get a prescription for anti-depressants. This was a pretty huge concession for me, and it took me a lot of self talk to admit that I needed some help. On my way to the doctors office, I passed Robb's Music, and long story short, I ended up with a ukulele instead.

This month, I found myself going through another round of clearing for this old love of mine and softly, found myself more opened up to what I can only describe as a creative flow of the universe than I ever believed possible. It may not seem like a big deal, but over the course of three days, I wrote 4 songs (which I like and think are pretty good?!!), which is something I never dreamed I could do. It wasn't hard. I didn't struggle or strain myself, I just sat down with my ukulele and thought "oh, maybe I'll write something about this...". And I did!

Though I love myself, I also know that I am not unique or exceptional. Perhaps the only thing that is different about my life, is that I am lucky enough to have found the practice of this Buddhism. In chanting 'Nam Myoho Renge Kyo', I am merely matching the vibration of my life to that of the universe, and creating harmony (I know that sounds cliche but it's the best word for it). For me, these songs feel like proof that my practice is working.

They say that a bodhisattva who can express themselves through art has the life force of a thousand bodhisattvas. I hope that means that my new found expression will only enable me to serve a thousand more people in this life.

may you be happy, may you peaceful, and may you be loved,
janey