Gratefulness to the three wonderful men who are guiding me on this journey

This post is as much about gratefulness to the three wonderful men who are guiding me on this journey, as it is meant to bring comfort to anyone fighting disease. May it bring hope to many.

On January 27, I met with Dr. Hemang Parekh in Paris. Dr. Hemang is an Ayurvedic doctor, and I went to him looking for a natural way of healing from cancer, following the advice of two great Lamas, Sherab Gyaltsen Rinpoche, who emphatically told me NOT to take chemotherapy and to follow Ayurveda, and Lama Ole Nydahl, who after listening to what western doctors and Rinpoche were advising, reminded me that a Buddha’s advice is the wisest of all.

Dr. Hemang gave me dietary advises and herbal supplements. He added that some of his patients had been given months to live by western oncologists, and yet they were alive and thriving several years later, because they had simply changed their diet.

I was coming from months of scary meetings with several doctors who all had only one advise to give: chemo! Poison your body or you’ll die. That was the consensus. Still is probably.

The last thing I wanted to do was take more medications. The pain killers they gave me after my double mastectomy had either made me sick or taken me on a confusing mental trip, but none had gotten rid of the pain. I realized I had to make a choice: I could either surrender to the fear the doctors were trying hard to drill into me, or I had to be brave, take all my courage and defy the cancer status quo and follow my intuition.

The leap was not without challenges. I cried so much out of pure fear and despair. I longed for help, for someone to help with research, to hold my hand, hug me, tell me everything will be alright, but I had only myself, a Buddha, and a gentle, quiet, and kind Indian doctor. 

-I needed no one else-

There began a journey of learning to stand up for myself, to make myself my own priority, to care for my body like I didn’t even know was possible.

I always loved to cook, so that made everything easier. I didn’t ease into the new diet, I jumped right in and decided it is possible to heal without chemicals, poisons and all that our poor western doctors (within the limits of their actually budding science) consider lifesaving.

Last Wednesday, I received the results of my last PET Scan, 6 months after my first diagnosis, 4 after my surgery. The results came back negative. In practical terms, this means I am cancer free. 
I don’t know what the future will bring. I am only responsible for what I can do myself, and I assume gladly such responsibility.

Here, you can see a picture of the supplements I take every day. From dr. Hemang I got Pratishakti, to prevent metastasis, 16/day; Fibron to get rid of toxins, 9/day; Metaboost, self-explanatory, 4/day, Chandrikaras, to help with the induced menopause symptoms, 16/day; Brainto, 4/day. I also take 2 capsules of curcumin with black pepper, 1 capsule vitamin D-3, 1 of Indome-3-carbinol (to control hormones), 20 mg CDB and a droplet of CBD oil before bed. 55 pills a day of 100% natural products,  100% meals made with 100% whole, natural, fresh ingredients, meditation and yoga. That’s the only  protocol that makes sense to me.

May all beings be healthy, may those who need to heal do so promptly, may all beings be safe. 

#naturalhealing #ayurveda #buddhism #healing #alreadyhealed #trustyourintuition #trustinspace #yoga #meditation #mybodymydecision 

Be mindful of your words

Yesterday was so beautiful, and warm, I had a short interpretation event around the corner from my house, and after it ended, I couldn't resist a walk in the sunshine. As I was walking home on Andrássy, enjoying the sun and the blue sky, feeling quite invincible, despite everything, I ran into a friend I had not seen in a long time. I was happy to see him, and we chatted for a while.

This friend is very intelligent, and unfortunately has a know-it-all (or know-it-better-than-anybody-else) tendency. I say this to provide context on what happens next.

So naturally, he asked about my health and the treatments I follow. As I informed him of my decision to stop radiation and to not engage in any other "traditional" treatment, he was very surprised. If only he had left it at surprise.... He didn't of course. Instead he went on about what a stupid decision I had taken and went as far as to practically telling me I was going to die because of my choice.

I have had it with this people.

Please understand the following: EVERYONE DESERVES RESPECT. Everyone's decision deserve respect.

The process of decision making when you suffer from a serious disease is excruciating. I cannot even explain how many tears I've cried wondering what to do. I felt completely helpless and abandoned, alone and afraid. Basically, morning was the time to cry. I would wake up, take my supplements and eat breakfast. Then the crushing feeling of uncertainty would attack me, and I would break down and cry, and cry, and cry...

I knew my survival was in my hands. No one to counsel me, no one to sit next to me while I weighted the options. No one to talk about it and cry over it. It was my burden and mine alone, and I bore it terribly. 

At the same time, one of the oncologists I met with told me I was running out of time. If I were to do any treatment at all, it had to be now, and that is how I felt obligated to do radiation therapy. However, some issues happened. The oncologist in Miami accepted after several weeks of pressure from my side, that maybe the test results confused the sides of the tumors, which meant that I might have irradiated the wrong side of my body 10 times. She wrote to say maybe they will test my biggest tumor again, but never again responded to my emails. Neither did my Miami surgeon. All in all, I've been abandoned by most doctors (local oncologist refusing to work with me because I don't want to do chemo or hormone therapy), so my feelings of abandonment are quite justified, I think.

Anyway, this "maybe we confused the sides" was the final push I needed to stop radiation. My skin was burning, I was starting to experience important pain in the left axilla, and I felt exhausted all the time. This simply was not "me".

I would never dream of approaching someone who's decided to do chemo, radiation and hormone therapy, etc. and tell them: "You should stop. You are weakening your body and immune system and you will die because of making such a poor choice." Although that is clearly my opinion.

Does it make sense? 

In my case, my decision was taken very carefully, after speaking to many doctors, researching the drugs they were proposing, thinking, meditating, thinking again, reading, and analyzing.

I wonder how many cancer patients taking chemo, radiation and hormone therapy have given it so much effort and thought, I can assume very few. See, cancer is a very scary diagnosis. Most people struggle to stay in control and sometimes undertaking this research is way too much for them. Also, challenging the establishment is not for everyone... (somehow I've always excelled at this, hehe).

I know because I felt this way as well. In fact, after receiving my own diagnosis, I think my life went up in the air for a while. I couldn't keep my routines, I felt so scattered that I had no discipline to study or work, or do anything reasonably, really. I was lucky at the time, I could rely on the support of someone close who cooked for me, took me out on bike rides in nature, to the beach, even to doctors' appointments and made me forget the live or die sensation that had taken hold of me. This helped my mental health a lot. Maybe it would have also helped my decision-making process but who knows... he was not there at that time, and it was definitely the hardest process I've ever gone through. I guess I was meant to go through it alone.

All I can say now, one week after making that decision, is I don't cry anymore. I found peace. I made a decision that resonates with my inner wisdom, with my gut, with my mind. I've found that my inner Buddha supports me and talks to me quite clearly through my intuition. I feel aligned with myself and full of trust in space, in my process, in life... My beautiful friend Celina helped me find an "integrative" oncologist, whom I hope to meet today. Hopefully this woman will help me navigate these troubled waters respecting my decision and supporting me all along the way. 

I know my friends are very smart. I wouldn't have you any other way! But often, I've found that intelligence should be reined in by compassion. You might have all the knowledge in the world, if you cannot find a way to communicate it to others, what good can it do them or you?

For a moment after meeting this friend, I was shaky. But I refused to ponder his ideas of me dying from staying away from the western treatments. In my heart, this is what makes sense. Respect it. My being at peace with it surely is more important than you speaking your piece.

East or West

In my cancer journey I have been confronted with many difficult decisions. Since I am away from my family and friends, I can only rely on my own intuition and inner wisdom.

Decisions such as what treatment to follow are the hardest. The medical community varies in their approach, whether they are in El Salvador, the US or Hungary, and are sometimes a bit contradictory, which can contribute to feelings of confusion and anxiety, a lot of fear of making the wrong choice and dying from it.

However the advice Western medicine has for breast cancer patients is pretty much the same everywhere: poison your body with chemotherapy, then proceed to burn it with radiation and please don’t forget to insert a hormonal time bomb by either removing your ovaries or inducing menopause.

I am both horrified and terrified of all of the above.

The highest blessing in my life has been the contact with the dharma, the teachings Buddha gave to the world 2600 years ago. In spite of coming to us millennia ago, these teachings are still relevant in the world of today.

Through my practice of dharma I have come in contact with very high lamas and have received their blessing and advice.

I am not talking about wishy-washy ideas that present themselves as alternative medicine. I am talking about Eastern wisdom and a medical science that has been healing people for thousands of years, without poison or burning or aggravating one’s condition with unnecessary pain or difficulties.

Most of the Western doctors I have spoken to in the past six months have been appalled at my determination *NOT* to have chemotherapy, and several have felt offended by my doubts and a few have been less than respectful to me when I’ve expressed my doubts and tried digging deeper with my many questions.

Following the advice of a Buddha, I’ve decided to follow an Ayurvedic treatment.

This feels true in my deep self. I trust it with my life, quite literally.

It doesn’t mean it’s easy. The limitations are many. But it feels right.

Anyway, what to trust more? The advice of a Buddha who sees everything in every situation, or that of a doctor who only sees statistics (which by the way do not include me)?
-
I'll just follow my heart.

Strengthening my immune system

I realize I haven't written a blog post in like.... forever! So, it is hard to make up for all the time that I stayed silent. So much has happened I wouldn't know where to start, so instead of starting at the beginning, I'll just start with wherever I am at right now. If I later feel the urge to fill up the gaps, we'll see, but for now —and as a brief introduction to this post— let me just say: I was diagnosed with bilateral breast cancer about 5 months ago. I had a double mastectomy with immediate reconstruction in November, all of the above, while living in Miami (!!!) but I am back home in Hungary now.

Finding myself in such a situation, dealing with uncertainty and trying to make the right BIG decisions, a deep sense of loneliness pervades me. I don't know where to turn for advise, or for a gentle pat in the back, or some sort of confirmation about my choices. I don't know anyone here who's gone through the same process, and relying solely on myself can be exhausting...

Therefore, I joined a few breast cancer support groups on Facebook, I simply couldn’t find one in Budapest adequate for me language-wise.

There was a post about how to strengthen the immune system, a valid question when enduring treatments I don't really know if I trust. One of the contributions resonated deeply within me. It said, “work with your mind.”

Wow! Well, isn’t that what I’ve been trying to do for the past 15 years or more?

Work with my mind. It sounds easy and everyone talks about visualization and the law of attraction and about manifestation. The truth is that things are not so clear cut. They say cancer is an emotional disease. And I actually feel so many different things now, enough to keep my mind very busy trying to work it all out. It's up and downs every day. What seems like a fine morning can easily turn into a crying marathon, and vice versa, a difficult morning can become a beautiful day full of hope and happy sensations.

So much for balance. But who ever said that working with our mind is easy?

I remember the summer of 2012, when Karmapa gave us the initiation on Dzambala in Becske. He said, “abundance is good health” and I remember thinking something in the lines of “come on! What I need is money!” Oh well... now it’s the other way around and I think of my foolish younger self with compassion. Little did I know...

In the end, all I can do is whisper to my cells in a soft, humble voice: “Thank you for healing me.” 

I'm back (in more ways than one)

Two years without posting... Wow!

Truth is I was struggling on many fronts, trying to make a professional breakthrough and sailing rough waters in my private life.

I think I may have reached an equilibrium point, and that I am ready now to come back to my blog, to write and share my aha moments. Why did I start this blog? I guess I was so very inspired by my travels, by my decision to start a new life for me and my girls, that I needed to share it. I am still inspired, but more generally by my life. My practice, my teacher, my Buddhist community, my family are all blessings in my life which give me so much. My cup overflows.

I don't think that going over the past two years would make sense. My life has changed a lot. Suffice to say I am in a better place now. Liberated from an exhausting relationship, hopeful professionally and full of blessings and light.

The past few months have been interesting. I have traveled a lot, renewed old friendships and made new ones. I fell in love and harvested a broken heart. But that's ok. I realized I was walking the same road, only with a different person. I don't want to fall into the same old traps. I am ready for the fresh and the new. So I lick my wounds and lift up my chin and look onwards. As long as I am alive, there is joy to be found in the world, and I am deeply committed to happiness. Never again shall I allow someone to diminish or manipulate me. I vow to be vigilant. I am back on track and I take the reins of my life and of my happiness.

Impermanence, friend or foe?

I remember a friend telling me how for her Buddhism made sense when she understood the concept of impermanence. As I considered her comment, I realized that impermanence has been a part of my life for a very long time.

 My father died when I was 13 years old. At that time, I couldn't imagine this could ever happen to anyone. Of course, I heard about tragic things happening around the world, even in Paris fires would happen, and car accidents, but my life was so perfect and protected, I could never imagine this would change.

But change it did. In fact my life was shattered when my father was diagnosed with cancer and died merely 6 months later. Nothing was ever the same. My small world was destroyed, my mother and I moved to a different country, a different continent, a different culture and language and it was extremely hard for me to adapt.

But I did adapt in the end. El Salvador became my home and I lived there many years and built a life for myself and my children.

However when I became a Buddhist I realized impermanence has been part of my life for a very long time... so when the Buddhist teachers spoke about it, it wasn't earth-shattering, it was right there inside me, a natural concept, one I understood all too well.

After my father died, I continued experimenting loss. My boyfriend died when I was 17, later my grand mother and then a very dear friend my own age. To say I am well acquaintanced with death is quite the understatement.

I also lost my home in Paris, and later other homes followed, and with them friends, familiar settings and routines. I eventually came back to Europe, and I am now living in Budapest, Hungary, trying to make a new life for me and my girls, trying to settle in, to make friends, to grow professionally and to feel at home, since I don't really know where home is.

But impermanence is more than a liberating concept that we learn when we become Buddhists "Everything will change" or "This too shall pass". It is a constant feeling of possibilities, and not the comforting type. It is the possibility of loss... at any moment, in any way, all the time.

I often reflect on the possibility of my own death, and how this would affect my girls, my mother and all those who love me. I often reflect on their death, and how this could happen right now, in this very second, and there is nothing one can do about it.

I am not comforted by this. I am not traumatized by it either. I just think about it more frequently than other people do, I guess. I also have a tendency to have the darkest worst-case-scenario come to mind quite quickly if my daughters or my husband don't answer the phone.

I had an accident recently. It was a small accident, but it required hospitalization, and it involved a lot of pain. This was not pleasant, of course, but not that big a deal in the end. What really makes me tick though is how it makes me think so morbidly about my health, and of course, the possibility of dying.

And so here it is, once more... the confrontation with my own impermanence, the possibility of death staring at me in the face, making me feel like the ground is collapsing under my feet, and I realize this is not the Buddhist impermanence. This is the opposite, this is fear.

The reality of things is there is no safety net. Yet, after so many years, I still don't know how to deal with impermanence, or how to make it become my friend.

On the quality of meditation

I recently read this quote from the Buddhist teacher Hannah Nydahl:

"In practice, quality and quantity are united. Quality gives depth to the practice, it is connected with understanding, deep motivation, dedication to the teacher and compassion for other beings. Quantity means a consistent habit to not be lazy and using a little more time for practice than is comfortable for us at present. This will always be rewarded. Ninth Karmapa Wangchuk Dorje said, "If you meditate, strengthening diligence when confronted with difficulties, you wiil get rewards in the form of incredible qualities."

I have already understood that quantity is important. The more we push ourselves to sit on the cushion, the better. Sometimes our busy schedules don't allow for as much time as we'd like, but arrangements can always be made to increase our time. Waking up one hour earlier is an option, although not welcomed by everyone. It is also possible to use any "window" of time that opens up to us.

A friend of mine spends an incredible amount of time meditating. He has a full time job, but uses whatever free time he gets for meditation and ends up accumulating hours each day. Of course, this is not about putting hours upon hours of meditation every single day. It is about giving it your best, even if that means 20 minutes instead of 3 hours. The point Hannah Nydahl makes in her quote, I think, is the importance of meditating "a little more time" than what feels comfortable. Once again our teachers push us to go beyond our comfort zone, where all the magic appears.

What really shook my neurones this time however, was the comment regarding quality. As Buddhist practitioners, of course we feel a deep devotion to our teacher, and we work with compassion, spreading it more and more around us as we develop. But what is real quality in meditation?

As my friend Réka - who is a traveling teacher from Hungary - explained at a lecture a couple of days ago, it is only natural for thoughts to constantly emerge in our mind during our meditation sessions. However, meditation is about resting in the here and now, and the thoughts that arise in our mind are rarely conducive to "here and now", but are much more likely to take us to yesterday, tomorrow, or to the possibility of tomorrow.

Instead of following the waterfall of thoughts, which is our most natural response, we should simply notice the thought, and go back to the Buddha. It is a simple shift in our attention, and it transforms it into awareness. This of course requires discipline. But as practitioners we already know a bit about creating positive habits, so pushing a little bit more is simply taking the next logical step. The first reward we will reap is a focused meditation, which feels much shorter than a dissipated one, and gently invites us to stay longer in the practice.


Then, quite simply, and almost effortlessly, quantity and quality meet.



More about Hannah Nydahl

 

 

Do you judge your meditation?

Of course you do, and you're not alone!

Over and over we hear our meditation teachers tell us not to "judge" our meditations. But of course, we all do. It's always somewhere between the "What a great meditation!" and the "This was terrible".

We are all trying to be "good" buddhist and students, we want to practice the different methods, we want to become better parents, better partners... better people! We want to stop experimenting anger, or pride, or to recognize these emotions as soon as they are triggered so we no longer cave in and produce negative karma... We want to be worthy of the Lama, we want to become Buddhas!

Sometimes I am so disappointed at my meditation I wonder if I meditated at all.... Was I actually meditating? or did I just sit there, letting the thoughts go wild while I repeated a mantra like a parrot. Yes... I can be pretty hard on myself.

I recently asked a meditation teacher about these experiences, and whether "they counted" as meditation or not. With lots of compassion he said they do. "When it comes to our practice - he said - whatever we did is done." And of course he said not to judge our meditations... yes... I know...

I am working on this now, on sitting on the cushion to do my thing, as best as I can, and then just stand up and leave the cushion behind. No further thoughts, whatever I did is done. Seriously, I am!

So there was I Sunday evening, in our Buddhist Center gompa, happily meditating away, while other friends were doing their own stuff; when in walked a man with his three year old little girl.  Quietly he took her around the room, shoing her the Buddhas on our altar and the different thangkas on the walls. He was very respectful of us and whispered quietly. But a three year old is a three year old. She could appreciate that her father was whispering, and she answered in whispers also; but mainly she saw a big, long room, all to herself. She started running to and fro, giggling, she went up to the altar and grabbed a mala (what a wonderful toy!), and daddy sat down somewhere and left her to it.

I will be fair, she wasn't being noisy, but she wasn't quiet either. She was running around, not loudly, but still... running around. To say I was irritated would be just. I was. And the more time they spent there, the more frustrated I got... My mind was giving me pictures of the carpeted area full of toys, devoted to children in our cafeteria, a mere 100 meters away, and I was seriously wondering why this man could not simply realize that a more appropriate place lied in the next room.

Changing rapidly, I next had images of my daughters, years ago, when I first discovered the Dharma. And how much I wanted to share it all with them, how touched I was when they would mumble a mantra, or stroke a statue. All in all, my meditation was a disaster.

As all this intense drama unfolded between my ears, the guy simply sat there, on the carpet and watched his girl run happily to and from the altar. As I followed her with my gaze I saw the statue of the particular Buddha aspect I was meditating on, and somehow was able to resume my concentration. I repeated the mantra a little louder than before and closed my eyes tightly. I focused on the visualization of this perfect Buddha form and suddenly the little girl, her father, and actually the whole room was gone.

For a delicious time I enjoyed one of the most focused meditations I have ever practiced. What a joy! (yes, I know, I am still judging.)

As I came out of the gompa, I met the papa and the little girl. I sat next to them and stroke her soft hair, and in halting and clumsy Hungarian started a conversation. His very first words were an apology. I told him how frustrated I had been, and he further thanked my patience. I said I was anything but patient, but explained what happened after, and how much more intense my experience had been thanks to their visit. I thanked him. He smiled and went on to explain in great detail why he had taken his child to see the Buddhas, unfortunately, I didn't understand much of that. We later said goodbye and he enthusiastically congratulated me on my command of the language... basically that was the only part I really understood.

Haha!

What a great meditation!!! :)

Outside the comfort zone

So we've all heard it before... "Development happens beyond the comfort zone". Especially in the Diamond Way Buddhist Centers, we hear it everyday because our teacher, Lama Ole Nydahl, continuously advises us to follow his example and go "beyond the comfort zone". In fact I've heard this so often that I truly believed I understood what it meant.

After all it's pretty straightforward, isn't it? going beyond the comfort zone means taking on challenges, facing difficulties, turning suffering into dramatic and profound insights, and embracing changes through adaptation. So yes, I thought I knew all about it... After all I'm quite the expert at adaptation... right?

Well, last weekend a very inspiring teacher gave a few talks in our Budapest Buddhist Center. During one of his teachings, I had one of the famous Aha! moments that carry the potential for changing our lives. As simple as it may seem to others, my clear insight moment revealed what it meant for me to go beyond the comfort zone...

In my very own little personal universe being beyond the comfort zone means braving the winter cold; it also means "no ocean"; it means a very strange foreign language, and it means my closest most beloved friends are very, very far away; so is my mom's house, her embrace, and her kitchen. As a matter of fact all of my favorite kitchens are far away and beyond reach, as are beloved and familiar places. My habits no longer hold true in this "beyond the comfort zone" place I call home now. My favorite pizza is unreachable, as is my best friend, my confident, my always wise adviser, and when I have real problems, there is no running over to her to spill the beans, to share my deepest feelings, or my unconfessed fears.

This makes it very difficult for me to run away from my troubles, from my pain, there's no one left to complain to, because frankly Skype and Facebook are useful at keeping in touch, but not really at "being miserable together", if there is such a thing...

So what happens when there's no where left to hide? what do you do when all your established safety systems are all out of reach? Where do you go then?

It turns out there is only one place left...

I don't think it had ever made as much sense as it does now... but in the absence of the familiar outlets for my periods of unrest, what I do now when there is pain is meditate. When there is doubt I meditate. When I feel like complaining on and on... I meditate. When I am angry, I meditate. When I am unsure and afraid... you guessed it, I meditate.

And it works so well, because this is where comfort is found ultimately, and yes, this is where development happens, because there is only one place left to turn for refuge, and that Refuge is giving us everything.

So, as I reach out to this deeper place, my fears subside, my doubts are set to rest, my pain is soothed, there is nothing to complain about, and there is nothing to accomplish. I open my eyes stronger than before, I see clearly now, if only for a moment, and the vision sustains me until the next sitting.

Does it mean that there is no more rage, no more tears, no more hesitation in my life? Of course not. This happens again and again... but the hold it had on me once is slowly fading away, and the clarity my Refuge gives me reappears quicker than before. This is why I now welcome these difficult times, because now I know they are the ultimate gift. They happen here and now so I can see them, taste them, and grow beyond them.

I am braver now, I know I have all the tools needed; so I can take one more little step, go out and explore.

Obstacles

The past couple of years have been hard. Not dramatically so, but hard. Relocating to a different country, where they speak the (apparently second) most difficult language in the world, building a relationship - a marriage!!! bringing my two daughters to live with us, and trying to get everyone to get along, working 9 to 5 at a job I hated, earning less money than... I don't even remember making so little money... And to think I used to complain about my income in El Salvador... It was divided by four when I came to live in Budapest, and it wasn't easy.

But of course a lot of wonderful things happened... I relocated to a different, exotic country, I took on the challenge of learning the second most difficult language in the world, I am married to the greatest man alive, who has become a natural second father to my two beautiful, sweet daughters,  I quit a horrible 9 to 5 job that I hated, and decided to set up a freelancing business...

And I would say I have quite an amazing life, I live in one of the most beautiful cities in the world (decidedly!), in a cozy and warm little flat with my loving family. I have made new friends. I feel more and more at home in Budapest day by day. I am excited about my new business, although I have never been a business woman before. And it's a learning process.

In El Salvador I had a growing, successful career. I had a professional reputation and made good money doing something I both enjoyed and was good at. I was a simultaneous interpreter. I was in and out of super interesting conferences, or airplanes, meeting Heads of States or of huge Corporations, and working by their side. Going on the field to the rural areas, connecting to people with realities so different than mine. From a UN conference to a glacier in the Andes... Yes, I loved my job.

But I never had to really make that happen, my good friends Ute and Gretel, as well as others, who were true business women and owned top-of-the-industry translation agencies were the ones giving me the jobs. I did get a few contracts on my own here or there, but basically I just relaxed and enjoyed... Unfortunately, neither Ute nor Gretel are operating in Hungary, and after one year as a regular Multinational employee, devoting my days to meaningless tasks, I decided something had to change. So I did.

Of course there was a miracle, as it always happens when you're a true Pure Land Resident, and the miracle was a 6-weeks contract in El Salvador. The money I made there is buying me the time to set up my new venture, and hopefully turn my life around and be a huge success... (Make strong wishes friends!) So I spend a lot of time sitting at my desk, working like never before. Who would have known setting up a business could be so hard? Then came the first opportunity, 2 days in late November, in the French booth. I promptly confirmed my availability and smiled big. This was not so hard after all! The date came and passed with no further news from the recruiter. No answers to my emails...

I know it happens... Events fall apart, busy people forget to answer emails... But to say I wasn't disappointed would be a lie.

Yesterday, as I was stepping into the Gompa at our Buddhist Meditation Center, a wonderful friend, who is also launching herself as an interpreter (Hungarian-German) told me she got a job in a few weeks. She was joyful and excited.

It immediately brought me back to my own "event" and how it didn't come through... I was almost jealous for a minute, but the faithful sign on the entrance of our gompa, which reads this gentle reminder:

made me realize I was not jealous at all. I am just used to believe in my emotions. In truth, I felt genuinely happy for my friend! I realized how what happened to me was just a simple obstacle, like one of the many I've had to face since moving to Budapest, or worse... since birth :)

The XVIth Gyalwa Karmapa, Living Buddha of Tibet and leader of the Karma Kagyu lineage once said "When you do things, then obstacles will come and you can go through them. Obstacles are a sign of success".

So here I go, steady on the road to success.

The very bad horse

In one of the Sutras the Buddha talks about the four kinds of horses: there is the excellent horse, the good horse, the poor horse and the very bad horse. The excellent horse moves before the whip even touches its back; just the shadow of the whip or a sound from the driver is enough to make the horse move. The good horse runs at the slightest touch of the whip on its back. The poor horse doesn't go until it feels pain, and the very bad horse doesn't bulge until the pain penetrates to the marrow of its bones.

I came to Europe approximately 3 weeks ago. And for most of that time, I have been a Very Bad Horse.

Somehow the separation from my family has been brutal. I understand at a very rational level that it is the psychological effect of "coming to stay". But the heart is seldom rational, and the memory of my child's face or voice has plunged me repeatedly into the abyss of distress. I have also missed my mother, the comfort of her home, the warmth of the linen on the beds, the smells of the kitchen, the flowers in the garden, the special way the sun touches the window. Every single little thing has made me feel homesick... An interesting affair when you were as eager to leave as I was.

Then, the death-blow... my best friend is diagnosed with cancer, and I am here, impotent, looking at my computer screen and wanting to jump out of my skin. How can something like this happen when I am so helpless and useless... But it does.

All this while, and for 16 days and 16 unbearable nights, I have the FLU, and I mean it in capital cases. I do not sleep at night, because I am too busy coughing, sneezing or snorting disgustingly. My boyfriend doesn't sleep either, and probably has the very urgent instinctive need to choke me or suffocate me with a pillow at the very least. Yet, praise his heart, he doesn't, but rather takes gentle care of me. I wish I could say his love cured me, but it didn't. Fevers came and went, sore throat at bed time, sorer in the morning. Mucus my constant and revolting company. And my mood just kept improving.

Christmas came and went, together with a quite frank speech from a concerned boyfriend who gently but firmly crossed every T and dotted every I. So I faced the new year with a strong decision: Stop complaining, stop the bleeding wounds, stop the heartaches... just STOP.

January 1st finds me in the Gompa, resolutely doing prostrations, cough or no cough, pain or no pain. I continue to ache at different times, when I see little children with their mothers for example, or see pictures of smiling little girls. I still miss my mom and my heart goes out to my best friend every single day. But the point is not to deny these emotions. The point is to accept they are there and go on. The point is, when you find yourself to be the very bad horse, you get inspired and try harder.

A joke

As I check my email rapidly - I don't have much time, I am in the translation booth and the topic is quite technical, no time to waste on Facebook and other timewasting devices... (yet here I am, ok...) Anyways, I open my email and find the strangest email ever. A Catholic group has my name in their mailing list and have been sending regular emails lately. Today I got two, and the last one makes me smile.

They are kindly letting me know that someone died and are now inviting me to messes, I assume, I didn't finish reading the thing before I deleted it. I am not smiling because someone died, although death happens all the time and shouldn't be considered so gravely when you are sure the soul will go to heaven. I guess the possibility of hell is to blame for all the solemnity. Anyway, what was funny was the wording of the email. Apparently the departed was someone's grandfather, someone they call "Consecrated". It was literally something like this: Our consecrated jane doe's grand father has died, please join our prayers, bla, bla bla...

It might not even be funny. I guess what I am laughing at in the end is how completely crazy this sounds to me, personally. And how these crazy things were completely out of my head after just a few months in Europe as a resident of the Pure Land, following my lama with my sangha all over central Europe, and later living in a Buddhist Center in Budapest.

I had forgotten what it was like to live in a country where there is no Church-Government separation (except on paper, somewhere on the Constitution), since the church has the power to collect biology books from all schools because there is chapter speaking of masturbation and homosexuality (the horror!!!), and also condemns AIDS awareness programs if condoms are distributed. Please understand I am not trying to offend anybody, I do not consider these things to be either good or bad, these are simply facts. This is a country where all presentable people are either Catholics or Protestants, where many carry a bible under the arm and are able to accurately quote from it, and where Buddhism is just a word, and not a well understood one.

I am not complaining or condemning. Just stating the fact. To be cool in this country, my young teenage daughter considers it necessary to participate in a Catholic youth group, however in disagreement she may be with the general dogmas of the Catholic church. She is my daughter, and has grown-up watching me meditate and practice Yoga, two practices heavily condemned by the Catholic church. She is inevitably a product of my meditation and has been brought-up to have a broad mind where she can understand and accept others, be empathetic and open. What I wish for her is a culture where you don't need religious affiliations to be cool, where you are free to believe and think what you want.

Freedom is a good thing.

e=mc2

It's been a while.

Ever since I came home, things have been a bit hectic, emotion-wise, and I have been intensely "with me", meaning I haven't been overly social, actually I must admit, I've rather been behaving a bit hermit-like.I wouldn't say I've been sad, or overly disturbed by the situations unfolding around me, but I haven't been totally indifferent either. Change has been the only constant and I try to ride it with as much detachment as possible, thinking little about problems but feeling them all the same. Many issues coincided, and I was facing purification left and right. My inspiration was the first to suffer, although I had many ideas to share with you all, I just couldn't get myself to actually put them into words.

While I wouldn't say I have suffered, I must admit these past few weeks were difficult. It's not easy when things don't go as you planned. When your well-thought-out, well-organized and prepared projects just don't follow our predictions (projections?). In retrospect, it would seem that this is what the whole lesson was about: Things don't always fit our expectations. Boom! I hear an echo from the summer's teachings: "Don't have expectations!" Our lama keeps repeating to us. It is a stupid waste of our time. Yet I must say it also a good opportunity to look at ourselves more closely.

And everything has not been a loss. I must admit I have never before in my adult life spent as much quality time with my mother. I can feel the improvement, and although we still don't always see eye to eye (I sort of suspect, we'll never actually see eye to eye, in fact, I fear on some issues we will forever remain in well separated corners), we enjoy being with each other. The beginning was tough,  it was as if my mom was very subtly complaining about all my months of absence, and wanted me to make good for lost time in a matter of hours (minutes, please?). But I feel we've finally asserted ourselves in comfortable positions where I am more able and willing to give than ever before, and she is open as she hadn't been in a long time. It's good.

My kids are also on top of things with my self inflicted reclusion. They get to see me ALL the time (probably TOO MUCH time for my adorable teenager, but just perfect for my youngest!). We sleep, eat, play, dream, joke, cook, drink, study, read, and almost bathe together. It's not too much for me either. I'm just fine with it, (although my teenager I would probably like to lock in a closet sometimes, but it's part of the story and I always knew these days would come, just please promise me it won't happen with the other one as well!!!!), so definitely, there are upsides to the whole confinement situation.

However, I have been trying so hard to focus only on the good parts and outperform the misery, that I think I just forgot I am suppose to work on this, to do the magic, to use the methods and turn coal into gold. Or better! into diamonds. As I was meditating one morning, finally lightning struck. I could suddenly understand that I have not managed to ignore ANY of my suffering, that I have actually suffered, am suffering right now, and will probably continue to do so until I acknowledge the fact that the only thing that's hurting is my own expectation of things. That it was stupid of me to actually build and have these expectations. That when you lose something, you're actually NOT losing anything. That all is good in the world (yes!), and that deep inside I have nothing to worry about (yikes! really?)

I remembered that disturbing emotions are not rocks and bumps to be avoided, rather they are truly the fuel on which wisdom runs, and I realized I was quite lucky to be able to burn all this before it did any more harm.  Buddha's present is infinite and unmeasurable. I had forgotten it, but now, I remember. I am suddenly brought back a few months into the past, at a time of great confusion and suffering, when I thought I might have committed an act of folly and that my heart would never heal from its longing. I remember how deeply I felt it then, how profoundly I connected with my pain, and how quickly I allowed for it to heal. That's really what it takes, to accept our shortcomings as what they are, and stop blaming everyone and everything else. Things are the way they are, and that's not so bad if one takes a good look. Everything happens for a reason and we can only accept this and move on.

I decide not too linger on my own flaws, I see them clearly and also move on, little can be learned from self-recrimination.  Eyes wide open it's easy to see the emptiness of phenomena, and how little weight the small tragedies have on the big picture of our lives. Just a few months have passed, and my life has changed drastically, of course not only the areas that I wanted to change changed, some changes I couldn't foresee took place, and I decide to start considering everything as evolution. After all, my life is blessed, full of prosperity, health, love, and blessings, so what if some people stay behind, if some chapters close, if some moves entail some suffering. Success comes to the bold, the dreamers who dare to make their dreams come true, come what may.

After that sad bump in the summer, I found myself at a Phowa course experimenting the wildest of disturbing emotions: desire/attachment. Without seeing it coming I had become slightly obsessed over a handsome stranger that kept locking eyes with me, but who never approached me, for his life.  I wanted him and no other, and could not understand the sad fate that would not bring this man to me. After a couple of days of more and more miserable longing, a cute, funny guy sat next to me in the course. We became fast friends and in a surprising turn of events I found myself one night happily entangled with this young man in Carina's tent. After a most satisfying and entertaining night, we said goodbye, as my new friend was leaving the course early. With a sweet and spontaneous speech, he wished me good luck, may I soon enjoy many nights like the one we had just shared, good-humoured and loving, may this bring me happiness. As you all know, his wishes  worked. I can't complain of the gifts that came my way afterwards, and I think of my good friend with unending gratitude. May all his wishes come true for him as well.

Not only did he teach me that the greatest joy comes from wishing the best for others, he also gave me the ultimate teaching: although we generally believe we know quite well what's best for us, if we release our own projections for a minute and open up to space, the results will be much more than we ever hoped for, even if they surprise us greatly. It's once again a matter of absolute trust.

Smiling while in the heart of the Red Buddha, these lessons are quite easy to appreciate. Reconnecting with the blissful nature of space proved a little bit more difficult locked-up in my mother's house in San Salvador, sulking with grief over the idea of lost friends and the resulting disappointment, and worried about the future as to money-issues and the impending separation from my family. Yet, by simply bringing it to my mind, the joy of the Phowa meditation is once again all over me, and I can effortlessly connect with the nature of bliss, and reclaim it as my birth right.

It's all very well to have emotions and to understand them, even better if we let wisdom surge also from the process, yet it's even better to play them down in order to focus on what's real through and through, the nature of my mind. Once again I take ownership of my reactions. This is MY life after all...