Pursebook, Or how self-help books automatically make you look like an unstable mental patient

So when I’m going around doing stuff, I like to have a book in case of some down time. And I don't have a personal cell phone, so if I am getting emails/calls, they're probably work related so not exactly the best way to relax.

Thus I have found, it helps to have a book on me at all times one because I like reading with my eyes (as opposed to letting my eyes wander carelessly around the room and perhaps linger too long on some awkward location on someone’s person and then they catch me and I’m like dang it, eyes! I knew I should have given you something to do!) and two because most of the options in doctors’ offices or DMV lobbies aren’t exactly my favorite thing to read. (sorry, Hot Hobos Quarterly)

So I keep a book in my purse. As I am always (barely) trying to grow and become a better person, I tend to read self-help. Currently, my pursebook is When Things Fall Apart by Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron.

Here is a picture of the cover:

It’s really a wonderful book, one of those that you can have for years and re-read over and over, each time finding some new, helpful insight that strikes you. I have probably read it three or four times and it’s one of my favorites.

The problem?

Well…it sort of makes me look like a suicidal hippie. And not even because of the title. Because of my neurotic chain reaction after someone asks me about it.

One time, I was reading it over lunch at work, and an office lady walked by and went, “Oh, what are you reading?” (OK, first of all I hate when people ask this…it’s like, just look at the cover if you want to know and also why do you even care? This isn’t a book club – this is work/Sparta. I’m citing you for insubordination!)

Begrudgingly, I held up the book so she could see the title…and of course she looked at me with this droopy dog face as if to say, “Oh do you have cancer? Or maybe you’re one of those Sally Jesse Raphael moms and your teenager beats you?”

And so of course I felt the need to clarify.

“No, I’m not sad - it’s about Buddhism.”

And the lady cocked her head at me only without sympathy now, and instead with sort of a “does it smell like waffles in here to you?” look and said kind of bluntly, “Oh are you into that?”

And I was like, “…Uhhh…Well, I guess so – it’s more about putting compassion into every day life.” But by then she was totally weirded out (maybe because she was expecting to have to comfort a dying hippie–or am I really that snobby?) and was already on her way out of the kitchen while she said something like, “Oh okay.”
So…I kind of stopped reading it at work and other public places for a while. But it’s such a helpful book, I always wind up carrying it around again.

And anyway, don’t judge me just because I want to be a better person. That book helps me and probably countless others so who cares if someone like Office Drone Susan McJagginstacks doesn’t get it. Insubordination!

And that type of silly neurotic behavior is exactly why I need to be reading the book in the first place. If you’re going to go to pieces & get all uppity when someone takes a polite-if-nonchalant interest in what you are reading, chances are you should to be reading from the Self-help section anyway. Thank you, Pema Chodron. You have changed my life – sorry I always fall short of your instructions, but I know you understand.

KING OF DRINKS

Watermelon Lemonade.
There are no other words.

I don't know if I've properly expressed this yet, but I am having a torrid love affair with my juicer (the magical Omega 8005). The Ace is really the keeper of the juicer; he gives it hay and a good rub down after each energetic undertaking, and puts a blanket over it at night. I am like the willful horsemaster who pushes the juicer to its limits, taking it over higher and higher fences and through rougher and wilder country until it is finally able to achieve the greatness truly etched on its soul.

Today, for the first time this summer we got a watermelon. I was really freaked out because it was a big boy (about 15 pounds. We named it Jeffrey the Big Boy.) and I was fearful that the juicer couldn't take it. But I left it in the Ace's capable hands to get it ready for the ride, and I must say that, as always, the Omega did not disappoint.

First, Jeffrey himself.

 (property of Frederator, not me)

I left the kitchen for about 5 minutes and upon my return, the Ace had already carved Jeff up into 4 massive pieces (each about 1 foot long, 6 inches deep---I'm not sure if that's the precise mathematic way in which one renders melon measuring, but just go with me). We both tucked in and the flavor was heavenly. All you could want and more from a summer watermelon. Succulent, bright fuschia dotted with seeds, and that earthy sweetness that makes your mouth act like a rabid weasel going at some type of smaller vermin that would be its prey.

Then, we started juicing. I was still enjoying my slice of Jeffrey (seriously, if someone had tried to ask for a bite, I would have snarled and tried to punch their throat off) when the Ace informed me that we were only using half of good old Jeffy - the remaining portion was still in the fridge! GASP!

Then, the juicing commenced. The Omega 8005 was a champ right from the get go. We were yielding about a cup & 1/2 of juice for each slice of melon. It was a tremendous achievement.
And then the tasting.

Imagine the flavor of Bubbilicious Watermelon Wave. Then forget that cuz that's not how watermelons tastes. THEN, imagine the best summer watermelon you ever had. Then Extrapolate that times 50. And then, add a drizzle of unicorn blood and some stardust. THAT is what fresh watermelon juice tastes like. It tastes like magic.

Once I came down from my cloud, we juiced 2 lemons, added 1/4 cup of fresh honey - et voila; the King of all drinks was born.
I encourage everyone to go out, find your own Jeffrey the Big Boy and start drinking his guts like NOW. You're basically just waiting to die unless you have tasted freshly made watermelon lemonade. This is where real living begins!

(property of Tamachan87, not me)

SECOND

This is a long one. Apologies upfront for my shamefully childish imagination. And stream of consciousness typing. Also, if you need to reference it again as you read on, Hippie - body/heart; Ashram - reality, experiencing reality; Teacher - mind/wisdom, superhero, mindheart.

So how many times has your body betrayed you? You know, like those examples in psychology where they tell you about four different people witnessing a car wreck and one person says it was a green car and one person says it was a little green person driving a red car and someone else says they like turtles, which are green, so there’s sort of lots of different interpretations to events and we apparently can’t rely on our eyes or our bodies to properly interpret any of that. Really, we have to run it through our translator machine of Mind.

Spiritual teachers say the real source of peace and joy is our mind – not anything physical or bodily can truly make us happy (even green people in red cars ). The mind, not the body or even the supposed reality happening around us is the real controlling force in how our lives unfold and what they mean.

It’s as if your body is some tripped out hippie at an ashram and reality is the ashram and the mind is the spiritual teacher (or “guru” if you are still at the crazy hippie level) and everything is getting turned into this silly, deluded supposedly spiritual trip and all the while the teacher mind is like, “No, you’re just still being fake – being happy doesn’t mean being fake all the time,” and the hippie body is like, “Oh yes, wise guruji, you see right through me” (continues dancing with scarves) and then the teacher is like, “Just sit down and let’s talk about what you’re afraid of,” and your hippie is like “This ashram takes away my problems, it’s like a dream lalala…is that a baby elephant riding a go-ped? I feel so alive!” and the teacher is like, “I reaaaally want to quit you right now, but I can’t because I’m your teacher/mind, so just chill out for a second and I’ll get you some juice,” and the hippie is like “Juice! I love juice! Juicejuicejuicejuice,” and the teacher is like, “This lovable moron,” and goes to the kitchen and everyone at the ashram is like, “Juicejuicejuicejuice,” and it’s perfectly climate controlled in there so you THINK you’re not hot, but actually you’re dehydrated and so the teacher brings what he told you was juice but it’s mostly water because he knows you’re freaking dehydrated you idiot hippie, and you’re like, “I don’t need water! It’s like 68 and sunny all up in this ashram, MF,” and the teacher is like, “Trust me,” and hippie goes, “Ashram, what do you think?” and the ashram is like, “It feels cool to us, dude,” and the teacher is like, “They’re dehydrated, too, just trust me, OK, I’m trying to help,” and hippie body pouts and finally goes, “OK, I’ll take a sip,” and then your stupid ignorant body takes a drink of water that it thought it didn’t want and ashram reality told it that it didn’t want and then you suddenly feel really refreshed and hippie is like, “Wow, I was really thirsty! I didn’t even know it. Thanks guruji, I was probably close to having a freak-out! I wonder how I didn’t even realize I was thirsty…” and the ashram is like, “We were trying to tell you about the water, man,” and the teacher is like, “Let’s all just sit here and read a book,” and the hippie is like “Awww man!”

And that’s how Buddhism works.

Sort of. I may be wrong on a few points, but basically your mind is the only means of awareness – all of your senses and reality’s mirages are just Input that could be completely wrong, and Mind/Teacher is the Receiver and interpreter. Think about it – body without a brain = not reacting or interpreting much. Brain without a body = delightful science fiction movie!

So I think peacefulness in life comes first from the big brain tricking the body with watery juice to make sure it stays healthy and alert enough and then worry about the ashram. Because reality is what it is – even if it’s ridiculous or wrong (see: Darfur, the VietNam Conflict, Dancing with the Stars) – and it’s not up to us to change any of that because ultimately, no matter what color people saw, the car in the accident was only one color (sorry, I am running example wild). And our little mushy pieces of body can’t tell what any of that means without the brain.

The mind I think is something connected with the brain and the heart. So it’s sort of a cool hybrid, like a liger only not as fat and lazy. The mindheart is like the body’s superhero that has infinite powers of perception and compassion and patience and Juice-giving skills and can deal with anything! But, if you have a really annoying hippie, any mindheart is going to get a little numb from dealing with that retard after a while, and so you need a way to reset it.

Give your mindheart a spa package. And that’s where the Buddhism comes in. Or whatever you want to call it, I think it's still the same thing - compassion for yourself and others.

In our above example, Teacher Mind would NEVER have been able to deal with Stanky Hippie Body and Ashram Reality without some serious training. And a lot of us expect our mindheart to be able to deal with these ridiculous characters without any training at all, without even thinking, “Wow, I haven’t been trained for this.” We just do things and expect our mindheart to keep up and then get all pissed off at ourselves when we yell at someone in traffic or forget to file our federal income taxes. Yes. Forget...

It’s like asking an 8 year old to operate a forklift.

It’s not his fault when 47 people wind up horribly disfigured and an entire city block is turned to rubble – it’s the people who didn’t train him. See, I’m not saying 8 year olds shouldn’t operate forklifts – I’m saying 8 year olds shouldn’t operate forklifts without proper training. I think. I’m digressing.

OK - mindheart training. Mindheart is like a superhero. Like Bruce Willis in Invincible. Sorry if you haven’t seen it. It doesn’t know it’s a superhero. Which makes it get really caught up in the realities of the ashram reality: oh crap my train got delayed, oh no my wife is a weird ho, oh gross I have a kid – these sorts of mundanities.

However, once it finds out, “I’ve never been sick! I can lift 900 pounds like I was Thunder from American Gladiators!” the fact that it was previously worried about the train delayed stuff seems silly! Screw the train – my mindheart can fly to the gym! Or who even cares if my train is delayed, I’m friggin magical!

But in order to Wake Up to our superheroness, we need training (not everyone can just suddenly be aware of it like Bruce). So what is the training we need to realize our full mindheart superhero potential? Personally, meditation works for me (no, really!) because it’s about letting go of the struggle and constant neuroses that come with body and reality. It’s just sitting there with my superhero mindheart and being great.

It’s not spiraling into the past or future or trying to figure anything out, it’s just giving the poor teacher mind a chance to take a breather, and after you do that enough, I think you’ll see that there is relief in giving yourself some space. Like opening a window in a stuffy room. And while you sit there, there’s no judgment of the little distractions that the mind tries to come up to keep the conversation going, mindheart just has this huge capacity of kindness and patience to let that go. Then eventually, that state of being follows you after you get up from meditation and you feel like your superhero self all the time, despite continued interaction with yourself.

See, Mind by itself is like Hugh Grant. It’s just got to constantly be talking and saying awkward things – it means well; it means the best of things, but sometimes it just comes out wrong because it just keeps going on and on and finally your heart is like Shh please! I’m trying to feel.

And the heart is like a young film student who’s watched Breathless 100 times and cries when they see a flower wilting by the sidewalk or hear the distant rumble of thunder and it just needs to be loved and understood, but if doesn’t get loved in a healthy way it’s just like your sister when she’s on her period – one sensitive bizznite.

BUT if you join the two, the Hugh Grant part has a way to stay alert and show off his educated vocabulary and actually has some pretty insightful things to say once in a while – not the awkward blather that spews forth when he feels like someone isn’t into him. And since the heart has someone to be the object of their affections and reciprocate, it can also show some insight but also keep things grounded in the present and remain patient and understanding with its feeliness.

So I guess I’m saying in a most inept way, test it out for yourself. I have discovered that by giving my superhero a little more credit, I’ve found greater peace and happiness in the hectic silly ashram by listening to my mindheart superhero.

Hopefully, no one was offended by my ridiculous metaphors. I think in pictures, and sometimes they get a little out of control. Mainly the hippies. You know how they are.