Coming Full CIrcle

"In the beginner's mind there are many possibilities, but in the expert's there are few." -Shunryu Suzuki

I took advantage of my break from nursing school and headed to Joshua Tree National Park.  I had not been there in seven years, since my first ever "climbing trip."  Seven years ago I had done my first lead climb while in the park.  Lead climbing involves placing metal chockstones as you climb with the possibility that one will fall from above onto this protection.  Although I had been scrambling on rocks since childhood and had placed protection in cracks to set up top-ropes I had never taken "the sharp end."  I remember my first lead vividly.

As we set up to climb a group of three climbers on the opposite wall headed up a wandering route with a slight overhanging section at the end.  The leader looked so poised and confident.  The route looked very difficult and I couldn't tell what he would hold on to.

I focused my attention on the rock in front of me and headed up with a carabiner full of nuts, some large hexes, four tri-cams, and a single #3 Camalot.  The route was classified as very easy (5.2) by the guidebook, but I kept questioning my security, my placements.  My confidence was being challenged, but the rock looked within my ability.  I couldn't tell why it was so hard.

The route wandered over a rock slab for twenty feet and then followed a chute for another thirty before topping out over a bulge of unprotected friction climbing.  I wedged myself in the chute and fiddled with gear.  I tried to get the gear securely in the thinnest part of the crack.  The crack was the same size the whole way and I only had one of every size so I had to look ahead and plan out my protection three moves in advance.

As I neared the top I put in the cam on a long sling, I put two nuts in opposition and headed out on ten feet of rock which looked intimidating.  As I neared the top I got to a crack that would take a tri-cam and I slotted it securely.  I knew I was safe and continued on to a good stance where I built an anchor and brought up my friend.

A rush came over me.  I had done it.  I had pushed my limits and opened up a new world of opportunity and challenge.  I looked out at the other party working their way up the much more difficult wall opposite the one I stood on and thought, "That is so cool.  I hope one day I can climb that."  I was euphoric and hooked on the sport and leading. 

Seven years later I found myself back in Joshua Tree and taking the morning off from climbing to avoid the rain that seemed to be rolling in.  I wanted to go for a hike and to do some Yin Yoga, so I did.  After two hours of Yin I scrambled up a pile of roks and looked out over the desert.  It was gorgeous as only the desert can be.  Still, quiet, with everything visible.  It is like being an eagle soaring high above looking for prey.  You can see everything in the desert and everything is in stark contrast.

I picked a pile of rocks in the distance as my target and headed out cross country towards my destination.  I didn't know it, but this pile of rocks that was chosen was the same pile that contained the first lead climb I ever did.  For those of you who have not been to Joshua Tree this may seem unremarkable, however there are literally hundreds of rock piles spread out over many miles, with thousands of climbing routes.

I neared the rocks and crossed a dirt road which paralleled the rocks.  I headed down the road and came to a split between the rocks as wide as a four lane highway.  On each side a thick fin of rock arched up from the desert before dipping back into the sand.  It was like two giant rock whales breaching simultaneously and frozen in space.  I had never known the name of my first lead climb, nor the name of the rock formation it was a part of, but I never forgot how it looked.  There it was staring me in the face.  I looked across the valley for the route that I had seen the other climbers on for confirmation.  Sure enough it was there and as I remembered it.  I laughed, I smiled, I was blown away by the series of events that had brought me to this spot a second time. 

I sat at the base of each climb.  I felt the rock.  I thanked the rock for being there and for playing a role in what has been a rewarding seven years full of personal growth, challenge and change.  I just sat there and felt connected, grounded literally to that spot.

My partner and I returned that afternoon and I respectfully repeated my first climb, crossed the valley and headed up the climb that had inspired me to grow as a climber many years before.  This time I headed up with a light rack of cams and long draws.  I could tell what gear I would need from the ground.  The initial ramp was easy and I waited until I was twenty feet up to place gear at the first very secure placement.  I attached a long sling to reduce rope drag and headed up a very featured face to a ledge below the overhang.  I placed two cams in a flared crack and another cam in a beautiful constriction.  Before heading up the last twenty feet of overhanging crack I organized the three cams I had so they would be ready in order for the upcoming section.

Right finger lock, left layback, reach high with right hand.  The hold was so big that I could have hung like Stalone in Cliffhanger.  Plug in a cam.  Reach high with left hand, match with right, press feet high and reach for a finger lock, cam again, reset feet, finger locks to slopers and press myself up on top.  I felt like a kid again, like I had seven years before, like I do whenever I climb something challenging.

The route had been easy, easier than I had expected.  I had spent years making this route more difficult in my mind because of what I had seen seven years before through a different pair of eyes.  I felt like I had come full circle and was ready for new challenges.  What had looked impossible a few years before was now possible because of the work that I had put into growing in this aspect of my life.  What else is possible?  How high can I shoot?  Getting into nursing school was a process and at times I felt like my attempts were the biggest failure of my life.  Now I am in school and every semester I feel more prepared, more competent, and more confident that I have chosen a fitting path for my career.

"There is something uncomplicatedly true in the sensation of laying hands upon sun-warmed rock."  - Robert Macfarlane

Projections & Illusions: Part 2

While planning my previous entry (Projections & Illusions: Part 1) it was apparent that at first glance it seems profoundly “unbuddhist” in the sense that it is all about self.  Impermanence, nonself, and nirvana are omnipresent themes in Buddhism known as the Three Dharma Seals.  Although nonself is important, one must be aware of a sense of self before it can be given up as impermanent and illusion.  Impermanence and nonself are intimately linked and there is no understanding one without understanding the other

“When we look deeply into impermanence, we see that things change because causes and conditions change.  When we look deeply into nonself, we see that the existence of every single thing is possible only because of the existence of everything else.  We see that everything is the cause and condition for its existence.  We see that everything else is in it.” -Thich Nhat Hanh

Impermanence is the teaching that things come and go and that nothing lasts forever.  Impermanence is often taught with the analogy of a river.  One can never step in the same river twice.  Our conception that there is a real and permanent river is just a perception, an illusion, a projection.  Buddhism doesn’t teach us to reject the illusion of a river, but to recognize it as an illusion and live our life accordingly.

Nonself is the teaching that our idea of a whole and independent self is a false concept because we are all interdependent.  Nonself can be explored through the following process.  Pick something and ask “What is that?”  A chair is a chair.  Simple enough, now ask again.  A chair, after all is only a chair because that is the name we give to things we sit on.  Is it made of wood?  If so it is also a tree.  A tree is nutrients from the soil, rain from the clouds and energy from the sun.  It is all these things and our conception of it as a chair.  Every chair is also unique in the wood from a particular tree which stood in a particular spot, was cut, moved and milled by particular people and particular machines that are themselves all products of countless other interactions.  The chair is said to be interdependently co-arising because it is interdependent on all these factors for its existence.  A short story by Ram Dass also illustrates nonself:

“There are two waves drifting along in the ocean, one a bit bigger than the other.  The bigger wave suddenly becomes very sad and upset.  The smaller wave asks what's wrong.  ‘You don't want to know,’ the bigger wave says.  ‘What is it?’ the small wave asks.  ‘No - really - it's too terrible.  If you knew what I knew, you'd never be happy.’  The small wave persists.  Finally the big wave explains: ‘You can't see it, but I can see that, not too far from here, all of the waves are crashing on the shore.  We are going to disappear.’  The small wave says, ‘I can make you happy with just six words, but you have to listen very carefully to them.’  The big wave doesn't believe it -- what does the small wave know that he doesn't -- but he's desperate.  After a while of doubting and mocking the small wave, the big wave finally gives in, and asks the small wave to tell him.  And so the small wave says: ‘You're not a wave, you're water.’”

So how does impermanence and nonself relate to “Projections & Illusions: Part 1?”  I used the analogy of a private movie screening to present my insight that we are all projecting and being projected upon.  These projections are interdependently co-arisen.  My own growing sense of self is also an illusion.  Buddhism teaches me not to reject my personal truth, to recognize its impermanence and illusory nature, and to take appropriate action based on my understanding.

Here is a helpful link to more information.

Life is Hard...even for the Dalai Lama

I recently read that the Dalai Lama reminds himself every morning as he wakes that he has a precious human life and mindfully vows to use all his energies: to develop himself, to expand his heart for others, to think kind thoughts and avoid anger and unkind actions.  He vows to benefit all beings as much as he can, every day.

This passage was followed with the commentary: "If he needs to continue to cultivate his Bodhisattva Vows after fourteen lifetimes as the Dalai Lama, you and I should not be surprised that selfish thoughts arise in us from time to time."

Projections & Illusions

Imagine that you are sitting down in a private movie theater to watch the screening of a new Ken Burns documentary.  The subject of the film is... you.  This silver screen hangs limply at the front of the room waiting for the lights to dim, and the projector is being tinkered with like a classroom A/V cart. 

The film opens at your birth and moves quickly through times before your own memories.  It tugs at the heart strings in ways that only old photographs of family can.  Your first memories hit the screen and you are overcome with how cool it is that a great documentarian has put your life on film.  You see things that you barely remember which sparks images in your mind long hidden or covered in dust. 

It feels odd to see your life through the camera lens, through a different perspective.  The angle is not the way you remember things.  Maybe you think, “I thought the chair was over there,” and “wow our dog was so small, I thought he was bigger.”  Perhaps this is discomfiting, or playful and neat.

For me the movie becomes more confusing as it progresses.  There are a lot of good times presented and I can’t help but smile and cry a little, but the lighting is always different than I remember, the colors are off, and the dialogue is so unclear.  The hard times are shown as well.  Again things are not the way that I remember.  The arguments have no point, my arguments have no point, and I look sadder than I remember.  I am starting to get mad a Ken Burns.  I remember that day vividly and he messed up the shot.  He made me look bad and now it is on film and no one will believe me.

Recent insight sparked this analogy.  It occurs to me that I got the message that my subjective self (my experience through my own eyes) was not seen or understood by those around me.  The truth (my truth) is that I spent a lot of my childhood feeling really alone and misunderstood.  I felt objectified (like an object for others projections).  I felt like the screen at the front of the room.

When I would get into conflicts I often just wanted to be told that I was okay for feeling the way that I was feeling.  That could have been followed with “however we are not allowing you to...”  Maybe I was told this, but I remember being told that I “just wanted to argue,” which was just another projection that felt incongruous to my experience and was therefore more isolating. 

In discussing this insight it was pointed out to me that some people take on the projections of other more easily than others.  I think that I learned to avoid conflict by taking on the projections of others at times.  However, doing so has always induced an uneasy feeling in my gut and I have often isolated myself at times to avoid this feeling. 

As I sit and write our dog is standing at my side.  I am projecting that she is hungry but she cannot communicate clearly just as I couldn’t clearly communicate how lonely I felt.  I project my experience onto others just as often as others' experience is projected onto me.

With this insight I am starting to feel a real shape taking form.  A form which can hold its own in the face of projections.  I think this shape will sit back, relax and laugh with family, friends, and strangers as the film of my life plays out regardless of whose lens is projecting.  It is the present moment in a movie theater with wonderful people that is most important to me now.

Inviting Mara to the Table

Buddhism is rich with storytelling and art.  One prominent figure in Buddhist art and lore is Mara.  Mara is a demon who challenges the Buddha both before and after achieving enlightenment.  He tries by various means to tempt the Buddha to stray from his path.  Mara is often depicted surrounding the continuous cycle of samsara represented in this wheel of life:

All of the stories of Mara that I have heard involve a temptation presented by Mara and a reply by the Buddha indicating that he has recognized Mara's presence.  They often end with, "sad and disappointed Mara vanishes."

Two such stories together encompass some thoughts that I have been playing with for a few weeks now.  In the first story the Buddha is sitting in meditation and Mara comes to tempt the Buddha.  The Buddha recognizes Mara and greets him saying, "I know who you are and you cannot hurt me."  Mara is indignant but the Buddha continues, "You are me!"  Sad and disappointed Mara vanishes.

The second story I heard recently.  Mara comes to the Buddha and accepting defeat kneels at the Buddha's feet and says, "I accept you as the Buddha the one true master and I ask to be your servant.  Tell me what it is that you would like me to do and I will do it.  Tell me how to act and I will be it."  The Buddha replies, "No, no, no, I need you to be exactly as you are."  At the Mara vanishes.

These stories resonate strongly with where I find myself lately.  I believe they reflect the practice of Loving-Kindness towards all beings (self-included) and recognition of the perfection of all things exactly as they are in the present moment.  They remind me of a poem by the Sufi poet Rumi:

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

-- Jelaluddin Rumi,
    translation by Coleman Barks

I believe that the Buddhist ideal would be to invite Mara into your home (he is you after all), and to do so without the expectation that the darkness has a higher purpose.  To just sit with your self, with your suffering, with the suffering of others, and to see the deep nature that it is exactly what it is supposed to be in that moment.  Paradoxically that seems to put the suffering in context.  It is present, but not overwhelming.

Two Hands

I recently read about a very powerful practice in David Richo's The Five Things We Cannot Change.  It has been helpful for me in both my study of the duality inherent in Buddhism and in living my own life more mindfully.  This practice as described empowers me to takes seeming opposites and holds them both equally.  He uses the example of fear.

Fear can easily lead to a reactionary response, a conditioned response to avoid fear, anxiety, danger.  If I am afraid of what others may think I may act to control the situation by reacting and doing something to please others.  If I am mindful and use this practice I may act in a manner that recognizes this fear, and also honors my own needs and commitments.

I can hold my fear in one hand and my commitment to no longer act in a fear-based way in the other.  Somehow that combination seems more doable than no fear at all.

He continues:

A useful spiritual practice in any predicament is to hold both hands out, cupped, palms upward, and imagine them holding just such opposites.  We feel the light and equal weight of both, since our hands are empty.  We then say, for example, "I can serenely hold both my need for relationship and my not having one right now."

...

I have found that sometimes when I implement this practice I may act in the same manner as if I reacted, however when I mindfully act in this way I find that I am not tied to an outcome, but rather engaged in a process.  I am sure of my motives and I am not ashamed of my actions.

I honor myself by being true to myself and my own unique experience of the world.

David Richo emphasizes holding the current situation in one hand and the "power to work with it" in the other.  By doing both of these things we are able to honor our experience, but not be trapped in it.  It is a practice that acknowleges difficulties and also builds competene and self-esteem by working with difficulties as opposed to against them or in a way that avoids discomfort in our experience.  The later being impossible (see First Noble Truth).

Since this is a blog about Buddhism I will add that the seemingly opposite truth that my self, my being, my experience, etc. are also illusion.  I can hold these two truths serenely and with love in my heart.

Buddhism also teaches about dependent arising, impermanence and no-self.  In reflecting on this exercise I realize that it has been the recognition that two people having different experiences and truths can be equally "right."  The teachings of Buddhism seem to be pointing out that one person holding two "opposing" thoughts is similar to two people having unique experiences.  Both can be equally true.

The Buddha on Self-Care

If one going down into a river,
swollen and swiftly flowing,
is carried away by the current -
how can one help others across?
- The Buddha in Sutta Nipāta 2.321

When I saw this I had to share.  I have been trying to find the words to express the importance of nurses providing themselves with adequate self-care.  It has been pointed out by professors that this is something that nurses often struggle with, that nurses often have codependent tendencies, and that a lack of self-care leads to burnout and job dissatisfaction.

In my own life I have noticed in the last two years how taking care of my own needs leads to a more fulfilling life in which I am more available to help others.  I also find that I am less tied to specific outcomes and less stressed in general when I act because I want to and not because I think that a specific action will lead to a desirable outcome.

Although I have for years thought that acting (reacting) in this way was compassionate or altruistic the truth as I see it now is that I was reacting selfishly to save myself from suffering.  Many of my reactions were attempts to control the outcome of a situation.

It is my goal to act mindfully and accept that sometimes I can mindfully put my own needs ahead of those of another and trust that they will do the same.  This is empowering to both of us in ways that I did not experience as a youth.  I can see how I will both mindfully act to recognize a desire to control a situation and act out of compassion for myself.

The outcome of reaction and mindful action may look the same on paper (I may take the same action), however, when I have acted mindfully I have not regretted an action, and in some cases I have empowered others in ways reacting does not.

I am vowing to myself to act mindfully as a form of self-care
I am vowing to continue my exploration and implementation of self-care measures in my life.

The Second Noble Truth

Dukkha (suffering) arises

Dukkha does not exist in and of itself, but rather arises from other things.  According to the Buddha there is no such thing as Dukkha that is all pervasive and permanent.  It comes from somewhere.  It can only exist in relation to other things, as a result of other things.  However, dukkha is a permanent and pervasive aspect of a conditioned existence.  This distinction was explored in my discussion of the First Noble Truth.

The Second Noble Truth is that dukkha has a cause.  Buddhism teaches that the causes of dukkha are recognizable, understandable, and can be avoided.  Thich Nhat Hanh uses a great analogy in his book The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching in which he compares our actions to what we consume.  If we eat nutritious food, breath fresh air, enjoy wholesome company, etc we are nourishing our body/mind and it stays healthy and is able to do many wonderful things.  If we ingest toxins from our environment we will become sick and suffer. 

The core of the Second Noble Truth is that suffering has a cause.  By exploring ourselves we can begin to recognize the toxins we ingest that bring about suffering.  We are further able to understand what arises in us that inspires us to take in these things that do more harm than good.  This knowing allows us to make conscious decisions to avoid what causes suffering.  Avoiding the food that feeds suffering leads to the cessation of suffering.  Third and Fourth Noble Truths explore the cessation of suffering.

The First Noble Truth

Dukkha (suffering) is part of conditioned existence

What is Suffering?

Dukkha is a Pali word often translated as suffering.  According to Buddhanet.net (2010) Dukkha encompasses all experiences that are difficult to bear ranging "from extreme physical and mental pain and torment to subtle inner conflicts and existential malaise". 

What is a Conditioned Existence?

Conditioned existence is what we experience everyday.  Conditioning is the lens through which we perceive our world.  It is what reinforces the perception that I am me and that you are you.  An analogy is presented in the first Matrix movie in which the world that Neo thinks is real is actually an illusion created by a computer program. 

At first glance the teaching that life is suffering may seem like a downer.  One may ask why would anyone be interested in something that says, "life sucks"?  This is our conditioned existence speaking.  Conditioning makes the experience of discomfort a "bad" thing.  Life is not synonymous with conditioned existence.

I do not think that I was alone as a child in my thinking that a life free of suffering was possible.  I was pretty sure it would happen when I got my drivers license (that didn't do it).  I remember feeling confident that it would happen sometime during college (it didn't).  At times I thought that rich people had it (they don't).  I think you get the point.

Paradoxically having the notion that a "better" life exists and grasping at experiences that approximate such a life are the very roadblocks that get in the way of living a life free from suffering.  Let me present another example:  As a kid I hated scary movies.  I closed my eyes during the opening scene of Jaws and got so upset that my family had to turn off the movie.  I once called my parents to pick me up from a sleep over during which a bunch of people got shot with a machine gun.  

I remember when Batman the movie came out on VHS.  We rented it and I covered my eyes when my brother's said that a scary part was coming up.  I pictured a scene so horrific that I began crying and feeling nauseous.  My brother stopped the tape, rewound, and made me watch the scene with my eyes open.  The Joker electrocuted some guy and his face melted like wax off his skull.  It was so fake that it made me laugh.  I learned that day that the idea of something is often scarier than the thing itself.

Buddhism presents that dukkha is a part of life as we experience it.  This is not bad news, nor is it good news, it just is.  Sitting with the discomfort that this truth creates has been a powerful experience, and has not been as scary as going through life with eyes closed every time that I saw dukkha on the horizon.

When we recognize and acknowledge our own suffering, the Buddha - which means the Buddha in us - will look at it, discover what has brought it about, and prescribe a course of action that can transform it into peace, joy, and liberation. Suffering is the means the Buddha used to liberate himself, and it is also the means by which we can become free. -Thick Nhat Hanh (1999)

http://www.buddhanet.net/e-learning/8foldpath.htm

Hanh, TN. (1999). The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching. Broadway Books, New York. 

Great Compassion

I attended a Dharma Talk today and was moved during the Q&A that followed to ask for guidance in an aspect of my life that I have been working with intimately for some time now: Compassion. This is a concept that includes both a recognition of suffering in others and a desire to alleviate such suffering.

For a long time I thought that I knew what compassion meant.  To me it was empathy.  It meant understanding that I too have suffered this.  I have been realizing that this falls short of compassion in that such a view is both self-centered, and does not come with an innate desire to reduce the other person's suffering.

When a desire for relief of suffering existed it was often a desire to relieve the fear and sadness that I felt in the presence of someone else suffering.  This is a quality of codependency, the presence of which I am blessed to have discovered before becoming a nurse. I have no doubt that codependency will come up again in this blog as it is a quality of many nurses and caregivers.  Perhaps the codependency that I see in others will be an area which I can practice mindful compassion which is what I want to write about today.

Through personal therapy, reading, yoga, a great relationship, meditation, and personal reflection the seed of compassion in me has grown.  Interestingly, although I suppose not surprisingly if you know much about psychology, a growing sense of self-love and self-compassion has been the catalyst for exponential growth in my compassion for others.

Everyday can be a struggle to cultivate love and compassion for my own being.  There are many times when I do not feel that I deserve good things, or I feel that only parts of me are desirable and therefore acceptable to others.  However, every time I acknowledge and sit with my own suffering I feel a little better about myself, and in following days I have more compassion for the suffering of those around me.  Complete with a desire to ease their suffering and without a codependent need to reduce their suffering for my own benefit.

What do I mean by increased compassion for those around me?  I mean that when I would perceive a person as being mean to me, or observe someone acting out at someone else, or see people talking poorly about another person I would think "they must be hurting so much to say these things", and immediately look for signs to confirm my suspicion.  With people I knew this was easier because I would often know what was triggering them or what was stressing them out at the time.

As this practice progressed I noticed that sometimes I would not know what the "reasons" were or I judged the reasons as insufficient to elicit such a response.  This began a long process of noticing the same thing in me and the judgements I make about my own thoughts, actions and being.  As I grew to accept the unknowable reasons in myself and the sometimes overwhelming emotion triggered by what I judged to be "insufficiently large" stressors I have grown to accept this in others.

That is where I have been for a few weeks now and I am feeling more compassion for myself and others, but it remains somehow incomplete.  I have a feeling that something is missing and I believe it has to do with a need to have a "reason" whether known, unknown, or unknowable. 

In response to my request for guidance the teacher responded that Great Compassion does indeed go beyond any reasons that may exist.  At its essence is "responding appropriately" to any situation not with a formula for developing compassion, but with a whole body being of compassion.

I will continue my practice of mindfully exploring what arises in me when I encounter suffering in myself and others.  I will continue to cultivate compassion for myself and others through formulas when I am in need of that structure.  And, I will cultivate a practice of "responding appropriately" to situations which call upon my compassionate nature.

Learning from the Buddha

A teacher visited a Zen master eager to learn what the master had to teach.  They sat together and the master offered the teacher tea which he accepted.  The Zen master poured tea into the teacher’s cup and continued to pour as the cup overflowed.  This disturbed the teacher and he expressed his dismay to which the master explained: ‘The mind that is already full cannot take anything new.  Like the cup, you are full of opinions and preconceptions’.  Thus he taught his disciple that in order to find happiness he must first empty his cup (Epstein, 1998).

The same concept is expressed by Suzuki Roshi who encourages people to come to things with a “Beginners’ Mind” (Sukuki, 1970).  I start my clinical experience tomorrow and I am excited about the possibilities and opportunities that exist ahead.  It can be hard to remain in the present and I hope to harness the excitement and energy I feel now to do my best and take in as much as possible in each present moment.  I firmly believe that by becoming a better person I will become a more effective nurse and I will unlock potential allowing me to grow more.

During a visit to a Monastery the Buddha noticed a sick monk in a side room with no one attending to his needs.  The Buddha admonished the monks for not aiding their brother and said, "Whoever, O monks, would nurse me, he should nurse the sick" (Keown, 2004).  I feel driven to become a nurse.  I am also on a journey of self discovery which has included Buddhism for the past two years.  Through yoga, therapy, and Zen practice I am beginning to make connections between my personal growth, my desire to grow as a nurse, and an emerging sense of the role spirituality and specifically Buddhism may play in these areas.  This journal is my way of documenting this journey.

Epstein M. (1998) Going to Pieces without Falling Apart: a Buddhist Perspective on Wholeness. T. Thorsons Berry, London.

Keown, D. (2004) A Dictionary of Buddhism

Suzuki, S. (1970). Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind. Weatherhill.