On Thich Nhat Hanh

Friday night, I saw Thich Nhat Hahn speak at Beacon Theatre. Thich Nhat Hahn is a Zen master, and the founder of what is commonly known as engaged Buddhism, combining comtemplative practice with active service in the world. He calls this order of Buddhist practice Interbeing. Read more about him on Wikipedia; he is a very impressive and influencial person, and I greatly admire everything he has brought to the world. He's going to be 83 tomorrow, so I feel very blessed to have gotten to hear him speak.

The talk was fantastic. It was sponsored by the Omega Institute, which, personally, I find to be far too pricey for my budget, but if you can afford it, they offer a variety of meditation, yoga, and wellness retreats and classes in the city you might look into. Anyway, speaking of the name of the form of Buddhism he teaches, Interbeing, I find it astonishing how wide the scope of his vision is. He surprised me by spending a significant portion of time linking the Christian concept of the Kingdom of God to Buddhist teachings. "I don't think the Kingdom of God has to be such an abstract concept, necessarily," he said, "because in a way, I think you can touch this Kingdom in the here and now." In other words, we can experience real joy, real serenity, true understanding, simply through mindful awareness. He had a way of reframing things to make peace seem actually possible. I really recommend Being Peace as a good starter book to hear his simple, beautiful message.

And today, due to a previous commitment to having brunch with some friends this morning, I missed a day of mindfulness which occured, including a massive mindful walk through the Upper West Side. I found this blogger talking about their experience today.

Anyway, I hope their will be more beautiful souls like Thich Nhat Hahn to come in the future. We need more people to be aware of this need for a realization of our interconnectedness, of our mutual responsibility to the betterment of the world. Nhat Hahn sees plenty of suffering, damage and destruction around him, but he also sees himself an integral part of this broken world, and so are all of us. He actually wrote a poem about it called Call Me By My True Names that radically and intensely asserts his vision. I love this line:
"The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive."

And he's right, if you ask me. If we cannot be emblems of peace and wellbeing ourselves, how are we ever going to bring peace and wellbeing to this world? A simple, powerful message. I hope he will visit us here in New York City again sometime. In the meantime, Barnes and Noble has plenty of his work on their shelves. Pick up a copy and maybe sip your Tazo tea a bit more mindfully. Compassion and peace are possible, even in this crazy city, but you might start with actually tasting your Starbucks beverage. And breathing.

Having Dinner at the NYPL

So, my husband is, eh... intelligent. He's a mathematical physicist. And something called a Newton Fellow. Which basically means for me that every year an organization hosts a black-tie dinner for the fellows at some ridiculous location, and has famous mathematicians, members of Presidential committees on science, and so forth come and talk about international progress in mathematics. Last year, they rented out Ellis Island. The year before that, it was at the Natural History Museum. This week, it was at the New York Public Library.

The impressive thing about these dinners and this organization for me, and the reason why its even making a blog entry here, is that the founder, Jim Simons, always gives a speech that has to do with competing in the world economy and keeping up with the technological advances of China and Japan. But what a Newton fellow actually does is simply teach middle schoolers mathematics in public schools, and get treated like royalty all the while both monetarily and in the form of golden beet salads with goat cheese and dark chocolate truffles. I was pondering on the founder's unique vision, and found myself deeply admiring the expansiveness of his perspective. He knows that real progress isn't possible without a strong foundation, and that lies in the education of children, so while what he is actually concerned with is international development and world economy, he's throwing all his money and energy at the core of the problem.

I think we all need to have this sort of expansive perspective. There's a quote from the Baha'i Faith that illustrates that well: "Let your vision be world embracing." This is intricately connected to mindfulness. That sort of is what mindfulness is, after all: breaking free from the boundaries of our limited world view, to view things as they are, rather than as we judge them to be- and to realize the interconnectedness of our world, and our personal responsibility to act mindfully while we are part of it, because we are, quite simply, always part of it, whether we like it or not.

In fact, the only thing that I think illustrates the interconnectedness of all things as the study and practice of mindfulness in everyday life, is actually mathematics. Because, well, it is the foundation of everything. There isn't a thing in this world that isn't founded in mathematics, and, while sadly I cannot grasp it at nearly the level necessary to see the immense and intricate beauty in it, I know it through my husband's deep, undying love for it. In fact, leaving the NYPL that evening, I said to him that the title of the popular book of one of his former teacher's, Brian Green, was pure poetry to me. "The Elegant Universe," I said to him. "Why is it that mathematicians sometimes put things so beautifully, so poignantly?" And he responded, "Funny you say that." And read a quote on the back of the book he had been given as a gift that evening:

"I have always felt that mathematics is a language like music. To learn it systematically, it is necessary to master small pieces and gradually add another piece and then another. In a sense, mathematics is like the classical Chinese language - very polished and very elegant. Sitting in a good mathematics lecture is like sitting in a good opera. Everything comes together."

-Sun-Yung Alice Chang, mathematician

The Great Vegetarian Empire Review

I am about to review a whole lot of seemingly independent vegetarian restaurants in New York City that I am convinced are owned by someone who has monopolized the vegetarian restaurant business here. These restaurants are: Vegetarian Paradise 3 (China Town), Vegetarian Paradise 2 (West Village), Red Bamboo (West Village), Soy and Sake (Greenwich Village), Vegetarian Palate (Park Slope), and Zen Vegetarian House (Flatbush!!). I thought I might as well review them all at once since they have such similar menus. (I've never been to Veg. Paradise 3, so I can't offer a review on that, but I'm assuming it's related to Veg. Paradise 2!)

Most vegetarians in New York have heard of Vegetarian Paradise 2 and Red Bamboo since they are right next to each other in the NYU neighborhood, home to many vegetarian and vegan friendly establishments. Here is a hint (and the first evidence of there being an overarching empire): if you want to go to Red Bamboo, but its too crowded, go to Vegetarian Paradise and ask them for Red Bamboo's menu. No kidding. They'll just give you both menus, and you can order whatever you want. I can't certify whether the other restaurants are under the same ownership, but if they aren't, they are plagarising each other's menus to no end.

These restaurants are known for one thing, and they do it very well: fake meat. Everything on the menu is mock meat, so they don't even bother explaining it; it's common sense that it isn't actually duck or beef or fish if it's called Vegetarian Paradise. It's a *great* place for bringing meat-eating visitors and friends who think vegetarians eat twigs and nuts. It's also great if you used to eat meat and miss it. My husband is addicted to these restaurants, and he's a meat eater; he says it has all the flavor of meat but its easier to chew.

Now, these restaurants aren't exactly healthy... it's sort of like chinese food; greasy, fried, battered, saucy... but very, very tasty.

So, since many of these restaurants have the same items on their menu, I'm just going to list my favorite menu items, and list where you can try them out.

Appetizers
**Almond Coconut Chicken: Crispy soy strips, fried with almond slivers and shredded coconut, with a sweet chili sauce.
Available at: Red Bamboo
**Sugarcane Drumsticks: soft shredded soy with a thin fried shell, cooked on a stick of sugarcane, with sweet chili sauce. If you have a sweet tooth like me, press your teeth down on the sugar cane when you're done with the drumstick and suck out the sugar. Mmm...
Available at: Vegetarian Paradise 2, Vegetarian Palate, Zen
**Malaysian Pancakes: Thin crepes with a very sweet (but not tangy) curry sauce. I absolutely love the sauce.
Available at: Zen, Vegetarian Palate (I think Roti Canai at Red Bamboo is probably the same thing)

Sushi
Yes, one of these establishments stands alone in this area: Soy and Sake. Thank you, Soy and Sake, for the most delicious vegetarian sushi experience of my life. The classic rolls are decent but nothing special; I didn't think too much of the spicy salmon roll. But the special rolls are really outstanding and huge, so come with your appetite.
Favorites:
**Hawaii Roll: Big, juicy roll layered with strips of sweet mango, filled with banana, avocado, and Korean pear. Oh, my, goodness.
**House Roll: Well, I never had chicken in my sushi in my meat eating youth, but I've had it in my vegetarian sushi! This roll features fried soy chicken, and has eel sauce on it, a sweet brown sauce usually served with eel rolls, that vegetarians often miss out on! Delicious. I still haven't figured out how to eat this roll. Huge sauced up pieces full of soy and avocado that barely fit in my mouth but don't stay together well when eaten in bites. It's worth the struggle, though.

Meals
I should note that it's hard to go wrong. The only thing I haven't enjoyed so far is the duck l'orange at Vegetarian Palate. But, especially in the beef and chicken sections of the menu, it's really hard to go wrong. Here's some stand-bys:

**Hawaiian Chicken/Sweet and Sour Chicken: Deep fried soy strips, Chinese style, with a thick, goopy, tangy, wonderful sweet and sour sauce. Most locations (not Zen) jazz up the sauce, adding lychees and pineapples. Very yummy dish.
Available at: EVERY LOCATION :)

**Mango Chicken: A ridiculous amount of sweet mango comes with this dish, making it a great value. It's definitely a mango-lovers delight. Chicken strips slightly healthier in cooking style, marinated in a mildly sweet sauce and the juice of the mango.
Available at: EVERY LOCATION :)

**Double Delight: A great combination of soy beef and soy chicken in a nice mild sauce, with lots and lots of steamed vegetables. I get this dish when I want a balance rather than an overload of fake meat. It is great for variety and comes in a nice, light sauce that tastes like thick sugar water. It's a great fall back choice for when you can't decide.
Available at: Vegetarian Paradise, Vegetarian Palate

So, go find the location nearest you, and enjoy a really indulgent, can't-believe-this-is-vegetarian meal.

Vegetarian Paradise: 144 W 4th St, Between 6th Ave & Macdougal St (near the BD, West 4th stop)
Red Bamboo: 140 W 4th Street, next door to Veg. Paradise
Soy and Sake: 47 7th Ave S, Between Bleecker & Morton St (near the 1, Christopher Street stop)
Zen: 773 Flatbush Ave, Between Clarkson Ave & Lenox Rd (near the Q at Parkside)
(Btw, Zen is a really delightful addition to this neighborhood. It seems a little out of place where it is located in Flatbush, but it seems to get good business. They have really fast delivery!!)
Vegetarian Palate: 258 Flatbush Ave, Between St Marks Ave & Prospect Place (near the Q-B at 7th avenue)

On What We Are

Watering my bonsai tree this afternoon, I remembered something that Dave Matthews said in his acceptance speech at Haverford, a Quaker university, the religion he was raised in, although he considers himself agnostic/atheist. I thought it was very beautiful and insightful, so I thought I might share it:

I do find myself praying a lot, and I don’t know what I pray to, but it seems like I pray to the undamaged things, to the natural things, to breasts before enhancement, to the way that a child runs across the lawn, to trees or to a forest. I pray to those things; to the mountain. That’s where I think God might be at least: the mountain next to Mt. Rushmore. Although Mt. Rushmore is impressive, it’s not as impressive as it was prior to the damage done to it. So, what is our obligation to this God I don’t really believe in? ...
God made you what you are, so why would he want you to be something other than you are? Why would he want you to pretend you are something you are not, because your heart is what God made it. And so, our responsibility to God, however difficult it is, is to be what we are. To be present, not to put up a façade that makes us feel safer. It’s not always easy. I’m faking it a lot of times. I wish I could fake it a little better right now. Although in a way you are more vulnerable and vile things happen to you when you experience joy, you get a mouthful of it, you know when you experience goods things. Because it comes right to you, you’re right there, because you’re not busy trying to make sure no one notices that behind that perfect, or average, or fitting-in façade is really what God made you. So be yourselves I guess is what I wanted to say. Be present. I have a little poem that I was going to read because I think that this guy was much more able to say what I said in the last five minutes—or ten if it feels like that—in just a couple of lines. I went to Australia and I found this poet that I don’t think has landed on these shores, and I thought he was kind of magical. And it’s May, and this is called, “A Prayer in May.” And it says, it starts,
“God relieve the dark unease.
God of valves untie my throat,
and God let sink the weight of mind to the belly of heart’s content.”
Thank you very much to everybody for having me today. So save the world now by being yourself.

(Note: Post title drawn from this song. This footage is from a Central Park concert!)

On Interconnectedness, and Dhara

A couple weeks ago, I joined perhaps the most eclectic yoga class ever. Well, this needs clarification. It isn't a yoga class. It isn't qi gong. It isn't meditation. It isn't a discussion group. It isn't a lecture. It isn't a wellness seminar. It isn't a group of people hanging out and eating fruit together in the late afternoon deep in the heart of Flatbush. It's all of those things. I stumbled upon a flier while trying out Third Root's free Wednesday morning meditation session (this is a place I spoke about with excitement in a past entry, and it certainly lived up to my own self-created hype), for a Young Adults Wellness Program. I am, just barely, within the age range, and, though I was worried I'd come face to face with a group of frenzied 14 year olds, I decided to drop my judgements and just be open to trying it. Turns out, most of the group is also composed of early twenties college age students, still making me a rare bird, a college graduate, but all the same, this is probably one the best experiences I've had so far in the city, and I'm sure I'll talk about it from many angles again in the future. The teacher, Jenna, has just returned from basically living alone in a cave in the middle of China for at least a year, and she is immediately engaging herself in non-profit endeavors (Her organization is called Dhara, and her website offers an introduction to one of the breathing techniques she uses. It's nice.) to put her learnings to work. In addition to a young adults program, she works with mentally ill students in a program called Six Weeks To Wellness (This program was featured in Time Magazine). She is such a calming presence, fully aware of how quirky and out of place she seems in this furiously active city, doing Tai Chi in Central Park, coming to class bearing Carribean fruits one week to celebrate the culture of Flatbush and apples and honey the next, explaining that in the Jewish tradition they eat this to symbolize the wish that "the fruits of your year be sweet." She's got a beautiful, magnetic soul, and her students follow her with total adoration. It's really bewildering; this young American woman with all the spirit of an old Chinese sage. Kind of turns your perceptions of culture and social standards on its head.

What is coming to mind at the moment about her class is that yesterday we practiced tree pose, first on our own, and then by standing in a circle together and touching palms. The pose was much easier to do with this subtle touch, and we all could feel the sway and struggle of everyone else in the group. Rather than creating a domino effect, it led to a gradual decrease in swaying, and near-total stillness. As one student put it in discussion afterwards, we felt both the strength of the person next to us and the responsibility of helping them stay stable by remaining stable ourselves. Jenna replied, "We're in our natural state in this way. Oneness. Interconnectedness. We just need to learn to feel like this all the time, out there in the world, because in reality, we effect each other just as much out there as we do right here."

What a concept. I won't even explain it, or attempt to explain it. Needless to say, there is, absolutely, a universal law of interconnectedness. Down to the atoms. I mean, really, what is keeping us apart? There is no break in the line of molecules leading from you to me. But you don't even have to go that deep. They say a butterfly flapping its wings causes a tsunami half way around the world. Could a peaceful stance, a loving attitude, somehow effect the day of all the someones inevitably connected to us in our urban everyday life, and bring peace to their family, to their work place, to their relatives and friends and organizations, bring perspective and balance and energy to their outlook, to their output, to the effect they have on this world?

Food for thought. Vital food for thought.

As for me, I kind of get caught in the awe of it, of that total interconnectedness, and maybe that's a good place to get stuck. In perfect, complete awe of this terrifyingly alive, terrificly interwoven city.

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Mary Oliver

On Subway Mosaics

Do you ever take notice of the beautiful mosaics in the New York City subways?

I do. Maybe it's the mindfulness practice. Maybe it's because I actually dabble in mosaics myself. But I find them stunning.

My favorite to date? The Delancey F/M/J/Z stop on the Lower East Side.

If you find yourself there someday, take a moment to pause and take in the rich textures the artist created out of shards of tile. Funny how instead of simple square white tiles, a bit of color and creativity can transform a dirty station stop into an apple orchard.

Maybe if you're lucky, they'll be a street musician there, too, like there is in this picture I found:

On Generosity

Last Wednesday, I began taking a one-month course at the Insight Meditation Center in downtown Manhattan. I was interested in deepening my formal meditation practice, and intrigued by vipassana meditation, the meditative tradition of Theravada Buddhism, the oldest and most traditional form of Buddhism. While I do not identify as Buddhist, I think meditation is an important tool, regardless of our religious and philosophical background, to cultivate mindfulness in our everyday life. This reminds me: mindfulness is actually in the title of this blog, so I might as well explain what that means to me. To paraphrase Dr. Jon Kabat-Zinn, mindfulness is essentially moment-to-moment, non-judgemental, openhearted awareness. Which means? In terms of living here in the city, it is the challenge of being open and alive in each moment, without placing judgement on what we see around us or feel within us. And it's incredibly important for city-dwellers to cultivate in particular, given that we are in a world of sensory bombardment, advertisement, persuasion, temptation, and are often too busy to even know where we are, or even what we are doing and why. When I am running to a meeting after downing my breakfast in two seconds and drowning the noise out with my Ipod and thinking about what so-and-so said to me last week, where am I?

Lost.

So, mindfulness is important, and meditation is a tool to get more mindful more often, so why not draw from a tradition that has been studying this tool for ages.

All this said, when I arrived at the first session, the instructor, actually a woman trained by Kabat-Zinn named Elaine Retholtz, explained that we Westerners are getting ahead of ourselves trying to meditate. Apparently, when you study in Sri Lanka or Thailand, where Theravada is prevalent these days, they won't teach you to meditate for years. Instead, you sit around being told to contemplate deeply your intention to meditate, and, more imporantly, the concept of generosity.

This is fascinating to me, since often I find myself walking around the city, saying, "Be present, you have to be mindful, don't judge the situation, look at it with an open mind, be loving, be kind..." And all of these statements are about what I cultivate within myself, aimed at, what? Too often, at my betterment. At my happiness, contentment, even my sanity.

Yet, if you think about it, all those qualities- not judging, being present, being open and loving and kind- can also be looked at in a different way. Done right, it is for the betterment of others. I give my open mind to their perspective, and make them feel more at home in their world. I give them my ear for comfort, my time, for companionship, my love, for their wellbeing. Everything I do can be seen in this light, and sure, it benefits me, too, but also the woman selling me mangos on Flatbush Avenue, and the guy checking out books to me at the Brooklyn Public Library, and my husband when he comes home from a long, stressful day of work. By being mindful and happy myself, I bring that ever-needed sense of presence and belonging to the inhabitants of New York City.

It was an extraordinary lecture, to shortend it, and I highly recommend taking a course, going to a daylong retreat, or attending a lecture or sitting group at the Insight Meditation Center. You don't have to be Buddhist to practice meditation, so I invite you and encourage you to explore and use this wonderful tool, to be more alive and more happy, and therefore, shed light and happiness on the bustling, stressed, underslept, over-worked, starving-for-love world around you.

The Insight Meditation Center is located on 28 West 27th Street (10th floor). Go to http://nyimc.org/ to view the upcoming events there.