True Refuge Retreat, December 6 – 9, Nashville Tennessee

True Refuge Residential Retreat

Steady Mind, Open Heart

7 p.m. December 6 – Noon December 9

Note:  Early start option 7 p.m. December 5

Led by Lisa Ernst

  Please join us for a weekend of meditation at a beautiful, wooded retreat site near Nashville. True refuge is turning toward our experience and finding freedom in the way things are.  As winter approaches and daylight wanes, there is a natural tendency to slow down and turn inward. Yet, in the busyness of the holiday season we may forget that true refuge is right where we are. This silent retreat will focus on cultivating a quality of compassionate presence that embraces our experience with equanimity and insight. Through this practice we begin to pierce the illusion of separateness and taste the joy of interconnectedness to all things.

 
The retreat will be held at Bethany Hills Retreat Center, near Kingston Springs, TN. There are two start options: 7 p.m. Wednesday, December 5, or 7 p.m. Thursday, December 6. The retreat will end at noon on Sunday.  Retreat cost for December 6 – 9  is $175 if paid in full by November 5; after 11/5 the cost is $200.  If beginning December 5, the fee is $235 paid by 11/5. After, the cost is $260. The retreat fees include lodging and all meals. Full participation is required. There will be an opportunity at the retreat to make a dana offering (donation) to the teacher. Two sliding scale spots are available for those who need financial assistance. Please make your retreat payment to One Dharma Nashville and send to: One Dharma Nashville c/o 12 South Dharma Center, 2301 12th Avenue South, Suite 202, Nashville, TN 37204. Please include your email address.

Lisa Ernst is the founder and guiding teacher at One Dharma Nashville. She began meditation practice in the late ’80’s in the Zen Buddhist tradition, studying closely with two Rinzai Zen  Masters and attending numerous mediation retreats. Lisa has also studied and practiced in the Theravada tradition since the late 90’s. She has been teaching since 2005 and was given full dharma transmission from Trudy Goodman in 2010 in the lineage of the Thai Forest tradition of Ajahn Chah.

Dana: According to the Buddha, generosity, or sharing what we have, is one of the central pillars of a spiritual life. In the act of giving we develop our ability to let go, cultivate a spirit of caring, and acknowledge the inter-connectedness that we all share.

Please contact  onedharmaretreat@gmail.com for questions or to reserve your spot.

Rocks and Mind Ripples

What do you notice when you throw a rock into a lake? Most likely you see the ripples created on the surface. The rock is usually obscured by the water itself. The deeper the lake, the murkier the water it is, with nothing visible beyond those surface ripples. Our minds resemble the lake in this way: we usually only see the surface disruption when life throws us a rock. What happened? The rock is present, but obscured by the murkiness of our mind ripples. We miss the rock sinking into our hearts or even deeper into our guts.

This is where our practice serves us well. We need to bring our attention to where the rock has settled inside and let it rest there.  Take a few deep breaths and steady your mind. Gradually the ripples will begin to subside and not pull your attention away.  As you feel how the rock sits in you body, it may seem foreign and uncomfortable, like something you need to remove. But as you remain present, you will begin to see that, like the lake, you have the capacity to accommodate many rocks.  The heart/mind is vast and wide. Rocks won’t destroy you. Gradually they settle into the ground and become part of the terrain.  Like rocks at the bottom of a lake, they  strengthen the foundation of your very being.

Generosity

As I sit for meditation

I’m struck by the morning’s

complete generosity.

It gives all,

holding not a thing

back for itself.

It asks nothing of me

except to fall into its open arms

completely

like a lover’s warm embrace.

The birds sing this song

from my very heart

until the birds and I disappear

and nothing remains

except all that is here.

– Lisa Ernst

Gratitude

Incense close, sandalwood

Just outside insects sing a steady cadence

Dogs bark a few yards down

Cars whisper on a distant road

Each revealing its nature

Full and ephemeral

Like endless breath arising

and fading to nothingness

This moment, perfect moment

Gratitude

– Lisa Ernst

Contemplative Photography and Meditation Retreat Recap

On Saturday, September 22 I led a contemplative photography and meditation workshop at Mercy Convent and Retreat Center in northeast Nashville. It was the first of its kind in Nashville that I’m aware of, although I’m sure not the last. The idea, suggested by dharma friend Lila Wheeler, seemed intriguing to me, but initially unclear in execution.  Where would we do it? Who would be interested? And how would the day progress?

The first and most significant hurdle was finding an appropriate place. After researching several options that didn’t quite work I settled on Mercy Retreat Center, a convent for retired nuns in Northeast Nashville. They’re local but rural, and rent their facilities to groups for reasonable rates. I booked it sight unseen. Finally, after a few months of only imagining the place from the few photographs available, I went to see it.

As I arrived at the center, I wasn’t too impressed. The building was generic looking other than some stained glass windows and a long, covered entrance. The grounds were pleasant but lacking in drama. I wondered if I had made a mistake. How would the plain facility and grounds translate into a day of photography? I had brought my camera and spent about ten minutes photographing outside prior to my meeting. This exercise began to ease my concerns. The grounds held enough diversity to allow for interesting shots without being so dramatic and obviously beautiful as to render any effortless, mindless shots successful. The point of contemplative photography is to pay attention, to cultivate a receptive, intimate way of seeing that allows the shots to reveal themselves. Drama and obvious beauty aren’t the point. The more mindful the photographer is, the more he or she will perceive the surroundings with a clear and fresh perspective.  At times the conditioned mind melts away into the unconstrained intimacy of camera and surroundings. Often this practice yields remarkable photos, but that’s not the goal.

Our small group of 11 (two additional people had to drop out last minute) spent nearly two and a half hours in the morning immersed in contemplative photography. The day also included several rounds of meditation. In the afternoon we went out to shoot again for about an hour. Some people reported that they were more connected with the activity in the morning, while others found the afternoon shoot (even in bright sun) to be the most fruitful.

At the end of the day I gave everyone access to a Flickr account where we could all load our photos to create a slide show.  Over the past week I have truly enjoyed seeing the images as each person added his or hers. What amazes me the most is how people see the same things so differently, or simply see different things. Each individual’s contribution is unique.

I’m offering another contemplative photography and meditation retreat next fall, at a different location: Penuel Ridge If you’d like to see a slide show of the day’s photographs, go here.

Post Script: Thanks to Shelley Davis-Wise, we created and sold a beautiful calendar based on the photographs from our workshop. The first batch sold out and we had to get a second order in to fulfill demand!

 

 

Talking Through the Trees

This is a moving essay from Sharon Safer, the director of 12 South Dharma Center. She wrote this essay as her dear friend Cynthia Schell was dying of cancer in 2006. Cyhthia’s trust provided significant seed money that allowed us to establish the 12 South Dharma Center as a dedicated Buddhist meditation space in Nashville.

Talking Through the Trees

“Are we talking through the crepe myrtles right now?” she asks.

“Yes, sweetheart, we’re talking through the trees,” I reply.

My friend is dying, and she is teaching me about talking through trees, and rainbow exercises for saying goodbye.

Lately, in every conversation, she asks, “What is in your soul today?  How is your heart?”

I tell her about my son’s seventeenth birthday; about arguments with my husband; about the Sears repairman’s fourth visit.  Of course I know that these are not answers to her questions.  It’s just that sometimes it’s really, really hard to cut to the chase and know where my soul is, or if my heart is open or closed.  So, I use the events of my daily life as the path inward.   Sometimes the path is pretty straight and short, sometimes it winds around and around, and sometimes I take a wrong turn and can’t quite get inside.

Over the years, I’ve learned that the feelings that arise from the events of my life can be a shortcut into my heart.  How do I FEEL about my son’s latest birthday?  “Oh, that’s the way inward.”  So many feelings:  pride, joy, regret, curiosity, fear.  How do I FEEL about those arguments with my husband?  “Oh, there’s another path inward: grief, fear, curiosity, anger,” or, “I don’t feel anything right now because my heart is so protected.”

But now, my friend is dying, and every day she wants to know what’s up with my heart and soul.  She won’t be around much longer.  She hasn’t the luxury of time, and I don’t want to keep her waiting.  So, I’ve returned to practices that will help clear out some of the mental debris.  I meditate daily, and write, write, write.  I want to be free from the drama of life so like my friend, I can cut to the chase and know in every moment where my heart and soul are.

There’s nothing like a dying friend who speaks through trees and about soul and heart and rainbows to bring focus to what’s truly important.  She no longer has the need to protect her heart and soul, and from this peaceful place, she speaks directly of her desire to move on; of her love for her beloveds; of the beauty of her petunias and gentle breezes.  Next summer, when she’s gone and the crepe myrtles are in full bloom, I will listen closely for her voice on the breeze, “What is in your soul today?  How is your heart?”

Sharon Safer is founder and director of 12South Dharma Center.  She has a Masters in Social Work and trained with Sanchi Reta Lawler in end-of-life contemplative practices.  For the past few years she has served the dying and gravely ill as a hospice and an oncology social worker.  In service to opening the conversation about end-of-life issues, she serves as an Advisor to The Gift Initiative (www.thegiftinitiative.org).

A Day of Mindfulness Retreat in Nashville

A Day of Mindfulness Retreat
Awakening Joy
Sunday, October 21, 9:30 a.m. – 3:30 p.m.
Led by Lisa Ernst

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Please join us for a  day of sitting and walking meditation at the 12 South Dharma Center. We will cultivate insight and lovingkindness through awakening our minds and hearts to the present moment.

Led by meditation teacher Lisa Ernst, this silent retreat will focus on mindfulness meditation. We will practice bringing mindfulness to the breath and sensations in the body, cultivating awareness of the pleasant and unpleasant states that arise. Through this practice  we gradually awaken the joy of meeting all that arises with compassion and friendliness.

This retreat is suitable for both beginning and experienced meditators; it will include sitting and walking meditation, practice instructions, and a dharma talk. Please bring a sack lunch. Refreshments will be provided at the end of the retreat.

Cost: $35, plus dana (donation) to the teacher. A deposit of $35 will reserve your space and is due by Monday, October 15. You may bring your deposit to the center during one of our meditation sessions, or mail a check made out to One Dharma Nashville to: 12South Dharma Center c/o One Dharma Nashville, 2301 12th Ave. South, Suite 202, Nashville, TN 37204. Please include your email address. Directions and additional information will be emailed prior to the retreat. Please contact onedharmaretreat@gmail.com with any questions or to reserve your spot.

A Buddhist Monk’s Camera

Nicholas Vreeland explains to how making pictures is something he does as he proceeds through life’s pathways.

"I am a monk who makes photographs."—Nicholas Freeland

“I am a monk who makes photographs.”—Nicholas Vreeland

All of Nicholas Vreeland’s cameras were stolen in 1980. “I was sad that the person who stole the equipment would probably not know what it was. Discovering that everything was lost was like a painful sting, but not one that hurt for long. I was nearly relieved that I was free of a lot of things.” The equipment was insured, so Nicholas was able to manage things for a while with the insurance money. A few years later, his stint as a commercial photographer ended, and when he went off to become a monk, he found himself unfettered and free.

Boarding School Studios and Monasteries
Nicholas started shooting when he was 13. He studied in a boarding school in America, and says that it kept him happy there. At first, he would shoot what was around him and eventually, he created a little studio in his room to make portraits of students. He even made portraits of the Headmaster on the behest of the Headmaster’s wife. This interest spun into an occupation, and photography is what Nicholas did for a living until he became a monk in 1985. Then, he stopped shooting. In fact, it was about after ten years in Rato Dratsang, Karnataka that he revisited photography. Only recently, he displayed his work in an exhibition titled Photos for Rato, which was taken to major cities all over India by Tasveer Arts with the generous support of Zuari Cements.

A Brother’s Gift
When Nicholas moved to the monastery, his brother gifted him a camera. But Nicholas kept it locked in a trunk and rarely took it out. “I did not want it to become a part of my life.” However, after a few years, he began making pictures frequently. “I would keep the camera in my desk and photograph everyone who came into my room.”

To read the full post, go to the Better Photographer blog, here. 

Seeking Completion

“Humans are afraid to forget their minds, fearing to fall through the Void with nothing to stay their fall. They do not know that the Void is not really void, but the realm of the real Dharma.” -Huang Po

Recently I was taking an afternoon hike at a local state park when I came upon a hiker a few yards in front of me. Instead of trying to pass him, like I usually do, I saw a bench ahead and decided to sit down for a few minutes and simply enjoy the stillness. As I approached the bench, an image came to mind of all the benches that I pass with people sitting on them, seemingly waiting for something, occupying themselves with their smartphones or tablets. Even in nature.

I appreciate my iPhone and iPad. They serve me well and when used wisely, enhance communication and connection. But I never carry my phone on hikes, its one of the places I prefer to disconnect completely. As I sat down on the bench undistracted, I sank into the fullness of the moment, the song of the birds and the wind rustling through the leaves  emanating from my very heart, joyfully interconnected. I felt deep gratitude for the beauty of this moment, perfect and complete.

As I returned to my hike, I felt a moment of wistfulness for the dying art of just siting on a bench with nothing in hand. Humans seem to be loosing the capacity to simply enjoy the present moment, just as it is, without the need for constant stimulation. I believe that’s one reason why mindfulness meditation is becoming ever more popular. We instinctively know we are missing something essential, even as many of us grow increasingly dependent on our electronic devices and other distractions to fill the hours, to plug what appears to be empty.

Distractions aren’t new. Throughout history, humans have always found ways to divert their attention from the present moment.  Most of us recognize that our diversions aren’t simply external, but a reflection of our often restless and seeking minds. Now, however, it seems these external distractions are growing exponentially so that we never need spend a moment in stillness and silence. At some point, we need to reflect on this emptiness that calls to be filled. How often do we stop in the midst of our attempts to satiate the void, mindfully slowing down long enough to take a closer look? Could it be that the very feeling of emptiness we want to escape, when no longer resisted, is actually a source of fulfillment and joy?

Seeking completion is a key element of the human condition. From one perspective, we view our individual self as fixed and permanent, yet simultaneously we feel incomplete.  Something is missing. So we seek ways to make ourselves whole.  For most people, it’s a quest with no end. As soon as we achieve the imagined completion, such as finding a mate, career and financial success, or even spiritual achievement, the fullness dissipates and the self again seems incomplete. Our quest begins anew. The constant need for affirmation and recognition can’t really touch the deep emptiness inside; it only skims the surface with a shallow illusion of fulfillment. Even our journey on the Buddhist path will only go so far. As long as we continue to pursue completion of the self, we will feel an uneasy sense of emptiness at our core.

The way to fill the self is to release our attempts to complete it. This may sound easy, but in practice it requires a radical and courageous opening, again and again, in the midst of our myriad distractions as well as our deepest fears.  We need to come face to face with the fear that “I” don’t exist, the driving force that keeps us seeking fulfillment in every nook and cranny of our lives. In our willingness let this self go, to repeatedly face this fear, we at last have the chance for true fulfillment. When we realize that the self we are trying to complete is empty, we find completion in the joy and fullness of this moment.

– Lisa Ernst

The Good Buddhist Trap

by Lisa Ernst

“Where you stumble and fall, there you will find gold” – Joseph Campbell

Many of us in the West grew up surrounded by well meaning family, teachers and friends who stressed the importance of adhering to society-based standards of achievement and success. There’s nothing inherently wrong with challenging ourselves and working toward goals such as a college degree, a stimulating career and a rewarding family life. Unfortunately, many of us also learned to interpret any unrealized goals as character deficits, inadequate talent, lack of motivation and worse. By the time we reach adulthood, our own internal voices may have developed into the harshest critics of all.

Numerous people bring this mindset into their Buddhist practice, often unconsciously. Eastern dharma teachers have observed in western students a strong tendency toward self-criticism and low self-esteem. The tougher practice methods these teachers may use with students in their own countries are often watered down or even eliminated, replaced with a kind and grandmotherly approach intended to counteract the severe inner voices of so many students.

When we begin to study Buddha’s teachings on sila (ethics), right speech, non-harming, compassion and equanimity, most of us are inspired to cultivate these qualities in ourselves. Perhaps we wish to speak more kindly to a loved one who gets on our nerves, cultivate patience during trying times and extend compassion to those less fortunate than us. All of these intentions are worthwhile and necessary for awakening our hearts, but if we’re not careful our Buddhist intentions can become yet another inner exhortation to do better, be wiser and try harder. We may trap ourselves in a tangle of the “correct” and “incorrect” way to think and act, which suppresses what is actually arising. This repression takes us further away from sincerely manifesting our good intentions.

For example, most people on the dharma path want to cultivate genuine compassion toward the homeless.  This is a popular topic among students when I lead group discussions on lovingkindness and compassion. Many students report that they  experience aversion around the homeless rather than compassion.  They feel guilty because they are not manifesting their ideal Buddhist response. Even many long term meditators struggle with this. They forget that aversion, when met openly, is a gateway into compassion rather than something to repress or feel ashamed of.

At a deep level, I believe humans inherently know that all beings are interconnected. When another being suffers, you and I can feel their pain. Often we aren’t even conscious of this and our immediate response to a homeless person may be aversion, judgment and even intense fear. We may simply look away as quickly as possible. He or she becomes “the other” and this shields our intuition that this homeless person is actually none other than you and me. In the midst of this response, yet another layer of separation arises if we reprimand ourselves for being a bad Buddhist, short on compassion. Soon we’re so caught in our reaction to our aversion that any awareness of present-moment experience is far, far away.

But the remedy is actually close at hand. The first step is to pause long enough to  hear those critical voices; simply notice them and refrain from following their stories. Next, begin to accept and investigate the aversion, actually feel the distaste just as it is. Don’t strive to change it into compassion. As you directly experience your aversion and fear, your heart begins to open. An open and aware heart is a compassionate heart.

Begin with yourself; feel compassion for your own fear and sense of separation. As you do this, slowly your heart can open further, to embrace the suffering of other beings, including the homeless person. You may feel genuine sadness or grief for the travails of this person, the unknown circumstances that led him or her to such a vulnerable place in life. Once your heart can accommodate these feelings, compassion naturally arises, a kind and loving embrace that recognizes that all beings, high or low, good or bad, clean or dirty, are all of the same true nature and not the distant other. Sometimes your compassion may translate into action, an engaged response to suffering. At other times you may recognize there is no immediate deed that will help. Either way, you’ve discovered genuine lovingkindness, the heart of a good Buddhist.