The Heart of A Child

Tonight, inspired by our friends over at Chocolate and A Pen, I want to share a story with you.

As a kid, I moved three times before finally getting to stick with a school. In kindergarten and first grade I attended a small country school. I had many friends and I loved my teachers. I think you'd be hard-pressed to find a kid, at least from my generation, who had a bad kindergarten/first grade experience. In the second grade we moved and I went to a bigger, in town, school. Being the new kid always sucks. Unfortunately for me, I was also socially awkward. I've always been the geeky girl, it's just who I am. At first, I had no friends. I was sure, once the year wore on, that would change. By the time I was bringing my stuffed animals to school so I would have someone to play with at recess it was painfully obvious that was not the case. I eventually made a few friends and, after the third grade, I moved again.

The fourth grade found me at South Vienna Elementary, the school I would get to call my own. On the first day I found a group of friends that have stuck with me to this day. When I walked into the cafeteria for lunch I shyly looked around for a seat finding the only table with room was beside a girl in blue shorts/overalls and the longest braid I have ever seen. Little did I know that girl would remain my friend well into my adult life. My first experience with real bullying came about when I made friends with a couple of girls. They were close friends and they brought me in. I was so excited. Shortly into the friendship they started fighting. Using me as a go between, they said hurtful things to each other. Eventually, they made up and turned on me.

After that first experience I was bullied constantly. Between grades 5 and 8 my mom had to change our phone number six times because a group of girls I used to be friends with had started calling me and saying the most hurtful things to me. I'm still not sure why I didn't just hang up. Why did I just stand there listening to them in shock? By the seventh grade, it became clear that my small group of friends were my only ally. I would never be the popular girl, not that I had ever really wanted that, but being an outcast was never something I had expected to be.

By eighth grade things had gotten so bad that I had begun coming home in tears everyday. I was called pizza face, told I looked like a boy, despite it being OBVIOUS I wasn't, called names, pushed. At that point I had very little self worth. Not everyone rebounds from this kind of treatment. Hell, I still have issues from it.

Add to this scenario a best friend, remember the girl with the braid, who was also viciously bullied and it's a heavy situation. I cannot tell you the number of nights I've sat with her while she cried, the times I've stood up for her when she couldn't stand up for herself. All the ways I have been her soul when her own had fled to the shadows.

Last night, in my area, an 11 year old girl took matters into her own hands. Because she couldn't stop the bullying, she stopped living.

When children are bullying other children to death at the age of 11 we need to, as a society, take a good long look at ourselves. A child should never feel so alone and broken that the only way out is death. This is completely unacceptable to me. I feel her pain. I know what it's like to get up and feel like your body is made of lead because you know that all you have to look forward to that day is the endless jabs. I've seen the devastation it leaves behind in others.

How did this happen? When did children stop being innocent and start eating each other alive? Our society used to be based on community. My Great-Grandpa lost an arm in a corn husker accident. While he recovered the neighbors brought in his crop. That kind of stuff doesn't happen a lot in our world.

It's time to end this insanity. The zero tolerance policies often blow back in the victims face, not the bullies. Parents seem to be apathetic to how their child is treating others. It's time to bring back the innocence of our children. I don't want to live in a world where this generation is in charge. So many of them are so quick to spew hatred without ever trying to understand or forgive.

I look at my sweet, loving, kind nine year old son and I see the pattern repeating. He's been kicked in the back, pushed, called names, and told Santa wasn't real. The sad part is that he has a developmental delay and will protect the bullies, trying his damnedest to convince me they were just playing so I won't go to the principal. I lucked out. He goes to the same school I attended and the principal was my seventh grade science teacher.

Mr. Justice is an amazing man. There has never been someone more suited to their job. When he walks down the halls the children's faces light up and they give him high fives and hugs. I will forever be grateful to the man for helping protect my child. I have no doubt my son is safe. I can go to him with any concern.

This world needs more Mr. Justices.

Please help me take a stand against bullying. If you were bullied as a child and have a blog please share your story. Lets send a message to the children who are struggling. You CAN survive and things WILL get better. You will not always feel lost in a dense fog in the dark night. Eventually you will find yourself and see that you were there all along.

Those of us born of fire can rarely be extinguished. We may sputter and burn dimly for a time, but soon our flame returns and we blind others with our resilient hearts. Though you may be burning low now, believe me you will burn as brightly as a star.


Angry Gril

Hey! Shut the Door, You're Letting Out the Hot Air! Tales of a Buddhist Mom

I have three kids. the oldest is 9 and then I have one that is 6 and one just about to turn 5. As I was showering this morning, saying, "Please shut the door," for what I was sure was the eight millionth time, I had an idea for a blog.  Having kids really affects your practice. I know not all of your will get that, but it really does.

My oldest son is very into God and I'm ok with that. If he has questions I have to, typically, send him to his father because it has been years since I've been in a church and I don't really want to chance something I say may color his newly budding faith. Not far into my practice he started asking me questions about it. I was cool with that, too. He'd sit with me when I was meditating. It was awesome bonding.

Then, it happened- his younger brothers started taking notice.

Don't get me wrong. I love spending time with my kids, but when you're trying to be still and focus on your breath having two small children basically climbing on you like playground equipment is distracting. For a while, I would try to meditate after they were in bed. All that accomplished was me waking up to the sound of the bell saying, "Wait, what? Ugh, fuck." Then I decided to try to meditate while the two oldest were at school. One kids couldn't be that distracting, right? Nope, even when immersed in a video game world of lego people that explode to bits, he would come straight to me when he knew I was getting ready to meditate. It was like he had a psychic ability for it. He could be in the playroom engrossed by Boba Fett attacking a t-rex and still, as soon as I would let my butt hit the chair, he'd come running out.

Now, I don't know how many of you have tried to focus on your breathing while a small child is on you, but it goes something like this. Sit down, headphones on, guided meditation playing, breathe in and out, in and out, in and out, then BAM something is tugging your hair. You try to make do with the situation just as you hear, loudly, in your ear (that they have removed the earbud from) "Mommy! ARE YOU MEDITATING!" By that point, I just shut the laptop and try again another time.

Even trying to meditate in the shower fails horribly for me. It seems like every five seconds one of them in rushing in to tell me the latest injustice done to them by one of their brothers or they have to use the bathroom. I've considered learning how to say, "Shut the door," in as many languages as possible just to keep myself entertained. My goal for the year? I want to take an uninterrupted shower.I know, I know, I have lofty goals. I should probably aim lower because it is more likely that I will meet Chuck Norris, dressed in drag, on the corner of Main Street.

How many other Buddhist Moms are out there? I know you hear me. Share your own story, if you'd like!

Angry Girl

As a side note, it took me about forty-five minutes to write this blog. In that time I had to get a blanket,be pillow, open a remote controlled mini tank, have several conversations about the Army of Darkness, and avoid a meltdown.

Hey, You, Stop Yelling at Me I'm Trying Not to be Angry Over Here

So a few nights ago my family and I went out to eat for dinner. Recently, our kitchen sink has had some difficulties which rendered my dishwasher unusable. The day after my meeting Ryan Hurst, I came down with the Flu. Needless to say, up until a few days ago, my sink was Mount Ick. Also during this time my van began to leak antifreeze. I spent at least one day outside in the cold, dying of the flu, replacing my thermostat. That didn't end up being the problem, but I digress.

My mom and I had discussed trying to fin the leak together that evening. Well, here in Ohio it gets cold pretty quickly once the sun goes down. As we go to sit down at Frisch's, my phone rings. It's my mom so, naturally, I answer it. She asks if I'm bring the van over that night and I say yea, but I'm eating right now, I'll bring it over after. She starts freaking out and saying it will; be dark by then. Ok, no biggie, I'll bring it over the next day, but I have to eat. She starts gettings o loud that people are staring at me.

\Where does the Angry Girl's Guide to Buddhism come in, you ask. Well, before I started skipping down the Middle Way Road, I would have completely flipped the fuck out if my mom had started yelling at me over the phone in a public place. You yell at me I yell at you. That was my motto. This time, as an older couple from West Virginia is staring me down, I took a deep breath and went outside to finish the phone call. I tried to remain calm and tell my mom that I had to eat and that she needed to stop yelling. Instead of the phone call ending in an out and out fight, it ended as calmly as it could.

While my bestie, Hope, likes to joke that I need to stop using my Buddhist voodoo shit on her, I think this Buddhism thing is really working out for me. I'm completely glad Buddha decided to break out on his own instead of continuing a life of total renunciation. I'm glad he accepted the yogurt from that girl who was probably thinking, "Damn dude, eat something. You're scary skinny."  though his ascetic buddies may have thought The Buddha was a poser for eating, I'm glad good old Siddhartha decided that wasn't the way for him

Hey, Mr G, thanks for being the poser who ate the yogurt.

What Do You Do When You Have No Community?

In all of the dharma talks I've listened to and the books I've read a community or Sangha is really important to your practice. So, what is a girl to do when there is no Sangha? I've adapted the best I can  and kind of found my own online community of like minded people. Though, in real life, when I meet someone who is Buddhist I tend to not know what to do. I get excited and want to extend the branch of camaraderie, but I am so bad at talking to new people. It goes something like this.

"Oh, hi! I like your beads."
"My what? My belt?"
"No, your beads."
"My shirt?"
"No," reach out and touch the mala, "Your beads!"

^ That actually happened to me. It probably happened due to my mumbling. People just aren't my forte. So this leads to my next question, is an online community enough to fill in the spaces a Sangha should be filling? It's really the best I can do at this point. I'd love to have a meditation group of like minded peers, but I'm new to this joint. In my town  you tell someone you're Buddhist and they ask if you worship the devil (yes, that really happened to me, too.)

So, what are your thoughts? Is an online Sangha still a Sangha?

Are You a Spiritual Revolutionary? Then This Might Be The Book For You.

As promised, here is what I thought of Against the Stream: A Buddhist Manual for Spiritual Revolutionaries.

As always, Noah Levine has a voice the people of my generation, even just the current generations, can listen to. He breaks things down, speaks my language, but don't take that as me saying he dumbs things down because he does not. There is heart and wisdom behind his words. When you read this book you understand this is a guy who is speaking from experience, not just saying hey, this works because I said so.

In the first section he goes through Sid's life (and of course I mean Siddhartha Gautama) before he becomes enlightened. He refers to him as Sid for the "purposes of sacrilege and brevity" how can you go wrong with that? He tells Sid's story and as you read you feel like you are getting a pretty good feel for the guy. Then BOOM, he goes all Against the Stream on everybody.

After he explains how The Buddha became Buddha, he takes you out to dinner, on a meet the parents style date, with the basic concepts of Buddhism. You get to spend time with each of The Four Noble Truths. Then he takes you for a walk down the Eightfold Path. Then he pulls you aside and says, "Dude, don't let the hindrances stop you," and tells you exactly what may lay in your path.

When the dinner date is done he takes you to boot camp. In boot camp he relays each aspect of the revolution to you and explains why it is not only necessary, but important. Many of the things said in this section of the book hit home. I didn't really have a good grasp on Equanimity until I read through this section.

One of my favorite quotes in the book comes from the forgiveness section: "We must not confuse letting go of past injuries with feeling an obligation to let the injurers back into our life. The freedom of forgiveness often includes a firm boundary and loving distance from those who have harmed us." If you remember my issue with the in-laws and forgiveness then you get why this stands out so much for me.

He also goes on to say this: "At a recent meditation class, a student said that she felt her forgiveness was a gift that some people hadn't earned. This is a common feeling among many of us who have felt injured by others. Yet does our lack of forgiveness really punish them, or does it just make our hearts hard and our lives unpleasant? Is forgiveness a gift to others or oneself?"

I know I have felt that way many, many times. The Angry Girl in me was of the firm belief that if you hurt me then I will hold that hurt inside and never let you, or me, forget it. It wasn't helpful. It made it to where I had a radio-flyer wagon full of hurt and hate that I had to tug with me everywhere. Hurt and hate are heavy fuckers, let me tell you. They weigh you down and wear you out until you are ready to pull that wagon up a huge hill and push them down it.

He closes the section on forgiveness with a reminder of the quote he opens it with.

"we need to forgive and be forgiven every day, every hour---unceasingly." --Hennry Nouwen

This is true, though you think you may have forgiven your brother for setting Skipper's hair on fire, one day you may be sitting there thinking, "Ugh, what was his problem? What did Skipper ever do to him, that bastard, " and realize you haven't quite gotten over it. All you can do is continue to say, I forgive you, I forgive you. Most importantly, you need to always forgive yourself.

In the section about death he says, "Our denial of death is a denial of life. Until we acknowledge death as certain, we will be tentative in all that we do, thus not fully showing up for or participating in the work at hand." In my early twenties I was diagnosed with cancer. You would think that would make me be all about living life, instead it terrified me. I would even actively avoid going outdoors (I had stage three melanoma). It took me a long time to let that fear  go and it sometimes still sneaks up on me, but you should never ever let it dictate your life. Want to go skydiving but you're afraid you will be the poor bastard that falls to their death? Do it anyway. Look at it like this, how bad ass would you seem when people had to say, "Oh they jumped out of a plane and died," right? Besides, death is the one certainty of life, everybody dies.

After you graduate from boot camp he hands you a field guide. In the guide, he addresses the issues you will find on the path while living in modern day society. He touches on community, sex, money, and freedom from addiction. It is important to mention that he does't mean just substance addiction. Addiction to craving and finding stability in an ever changing world is the root problem of suffering.

Finally, before clapping you on the shoulder and sending you on your way with a thumbs up, Noah hands you The Revolutionary Manifesto. In it he tells us to defy the lies, serve the truth, beware of teachers, and question everything. He explains the very core of his message. Read it with a highlighter, you're probably going to need it. I did.

"Holy shit, what about meditation?" you ask, don't worry there is an appendix with detailed instructions on how to achieve each of the meditations he touches on in the book. You can also go to Against the Stream and follow the guided meditations posted there.

All in all, Noah has once again shown us why he is such an important member of the community. He spreads his message with compassion, humor, and humility. You get to see that even those farther along on the path have doubts and issues to deal with. We learn from each other, daily, that is what community is all about.

Honestly, I can't wait to get his next book.

Angry Girl

The Angry Girl Makes A Full Circle

Last night I barely slept. I watched The Hunger Games, listened to Empty Chairs at Empty Tables, and I wrote a letter of thanks in purple ink. You would think that, after thinking about it for a while, the letter would have been easy to write, but it wasn't. Deciding how much detail to put in it and how much gratitude can be accurately scribed without looking weird is quite the process. Hell, I even skipped the greeting because I couldn't decide between Ryan, Dear Ryan,or Dear Mr. Hurst.It took me most of the night to do it. It was completely worth it to me. When it was finished I felt like I had said what needed to be said and said thank you the best I could.

I had talked to my best friend from out of state and she said she was worried that it would be left behind before it actually was read. We tried to come up with ways to make the envelope flashy so it would be seen, even in the rush of leaving. My husband suggested writing Mr. Hurst in big letters on it, it was hilarious, but I decided against it. My friend suggested maybe coming up with a logo for the blog and drawing it on there.Eventually, after some pretty funny conversation, I decided on drawing a lotus. Taking 3 brown, recycled cd sleeves with me in the car I drew three lotuses and picked my favorite. Then my locally grown best friend, Hope, laughingly suggested I put @RamboDonkeyKong on it and so I did.

When I woke up it seemed like I had just gone to sleep. Though he wouldn't be signing autographs until   noon, I wanted to get there by ten. Knowing this may be his last stint through the bike shows I didn't know how many people would be there to meet him. Around 10:20 we got in line and there was probably at least twenty people ahead of us. Hope and I stood in line and laughed and joked with the fans around us. It was great. When he came out everyone cheered.

The closer I came to the table the more my heart pounded. I began to completely doubt this. Here I was, at a bike show, toting a fan letter that wasn't really a fan letter. For a minute I wasn't sure I would give it to him. My hands shook at the reality that I probably wouldn't get a second chance at this. How many times in your life can you say that you met someone who set you on the road to completely changing your life?

When I got up to the table I asked he if he would sign the picture I brought with me and he smiled and said yea sure. I slid the picture onto the table and smiled wide. I reached over and gestured toward the picture, "This picture completely changed my life," I slid the letter across to him, "and this letter explains the story behind that." Saying I thought I might puke is the understatement of the century.

Being the person I am I didn't know how seriously he would take it or if he would just be like, "Yea, ok." and pass it off to someone. When he looked at me sincerely and said, "I promise I will read it," I nearly died. That was definitely not what I expected. I had prepared for every possible outcome except him saying he would read it.

When I walked away I found out my husband had stood to the side with his phone and taken pictures of me talking to Ryan Hurst. He showed them to me and I nearly cried, what can I say, I'm an emotional chick sometimes.

The rest of the time I was at Cyclefest I walked around in a daze. I was just trying to digest what had  happened. It was huge. If you can tell someone thank you for something, DO IT. This has been one of the most cathartic things I have ever done. When I realized I was starving because, in an effort not to barf on Mr. Hurst, I had only eaten a bagel all day we left to go eat. We all sat around the table just talking about the whole thing. Right before we left, Hope turned to me and said, "Can you just imagine him getting in whatever car he will be leaving in and pulling out your letter to read it." Well, I can imagine it and I hope, wherever and whenever he does get the time to read it, my honest feelings make it from the page to him. I hope that he reads it and understands how much this has meant to me. 

Angry Girl, Floating

Don't Let Doubt Get You Down

Doubt is a huge hindrance in life. It hits you even when you are walking along cool as a cucumber and confident as ever. There you are, trotting along, and doubt pops up and says, "Oh hey, whatchya doin there? Don't you know you can't do that? It's too hard. It's just impossible for you."

The best part? You don't have to listen to doubt.


You can wave to it, say, "Oh I see you," and just keep right on doing what you're doing. That may seem like a really common sense statement, but unless you are mindful of your reaction to doubt then it is probably getting the better of you. I've let it get the better of me just recently. I was sitting down to write a letter just last night and my mind kept telling me, "This is a bad idea. This is too much. What the fuck are you doing?"  and I listened and walked away. Today, though, I am determined to write the letter. Doubt can kick and scream in my head and I'll just smile and wave.

I think that, in regards to the Buddhist path, many people let doubt get the better of them. I know in my area there is absolutely no Buddhist community and without the talks and guided meditations at Against the Stream I may have given up. It's hard to do something so against the norm and be alone doing it. It's the time when doubt can be heard the loudest. Still, keep plugging along, it's worth it.



Last night I finished Against the Stream; A Buddhist Manual For Spiritual Revolutionaries. In a couple of days I'll do a post, complete with quotes, with my thoughts on it. I loved it. Seriously. I have also started reading something by Pema Chordron, a Buddhist Nun. So far I'm really enjoying it, too.

I've been really excited to see that I've been getting steady visits. Hello! I see you! Welcome to my blog!

Angry Girl