Skip to content →

Category: Buddhism

POEM: the mystic

the mystic

New Balance sneakers, worn soles
Builder’s tea, almond milk, one sugar
Nikon binoculars, Peterson field guide
a biography of Philip Whalen (of course)
all the trappings, none of the Trappist
there’s no “I” in enlightenment
oh wait, there totally is

/ / /

Jason Crane
17 March 2017
State College, PA

Leave a Comment

A Meditation Confession

On December 17, 2015, I stopped meditating.

Screenshot_2016-06-21-17-16-01I’d been meditating at least 20 minutes a day for more than three years without missing a day, and in an on-and-off way for many more years than that. In fact, I tracked my meditation on an app called Meditation Helper. It has a little widget (pictured) that helped me remember to meditate and held me accountable for doing it every day because I didn’t want to reset the “longest streak” count to zero. As you can see, I was at 1,209 consecutive days when I missed one day and stopped completely. I was so shocked that I’d missed that day that it was like the wind went out of my meditative sails. That was more than six months ago.

In those intervening months, I haven’t considered myself less of a Buddhist, though I’ve felt a combination of guilt and sadness over not getting to the cushion. In March, slightly less than four months after I stopped meditating, I started walking every day, which has made a big difference and has, in some ways, become like meditation.

During this hiatus, I’ve read a few very valuable Buddhist books. One was Don’t Be A Jerk by Brad Warner, a wonderful look at the work of Dogen. I’m about halfway through the latest book by Stephen Batchelor, After Buddhism, a brilliant and inspiring look at secular Buddhism and the Pali canon. A few days ago, I read Lodro Rinzler’s brief Sit Like A Buddha, which, while aimed at new meditators, still contained a perspective I found refreshing. I’m also reading Chogyam Trungpa’s Shambhala: The Sacred Heart Path of the Warrior, a classic text of almost-Buddhism that, like Batchelor’s book, is very secular in its approach. These books helped me engage with my practice even when I wasn’t actively sitting each day. Are books a substitute for meditation? No. But they can help refuel your tank when it’s been depleted.

Two days ago I started sitting again. I’m using the same app, though I’m having second thoughts about it. I wonder whether it might be healthier just to set an alarm on my phone but not track the consecutive days. In any case, I’m glad to be back on the cushion.

One Comment

Updates on my road to the ministry

IMAG0200

Last June I wrote an essay called “Charting a course for the next part of my life” about my desire to finally pursue my dream of being a religious leader in an intentional community.

Several things have changed since I wrote that essay, and I’m further along the path than I was when I had the epiphany I mentioned back in June.

First, I changed jobs. I’m now the program director and morning show host at a great radio station in State College. I really love my job and it’s a much healthier, more fulfilling place to be than where I was. So that’s good news.

Second, I recently had another of those setbacks that’s really a step forward. As I mentioned in the June essay, I have student loans in default. They’ve been that way for years. Two weeks ago, I got a note from a collection agency that they were going to start garnishing my wages, which they now are. However, this kick in the pants caused me to finally start a loan rehabilitation program, which means that by this fall my loans will be out of default, clearing the way for more school.

Third, my partner (another great change!) and I are now attending the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Centre County. We’re only a couple weeks in, but we both feel good there and I think we’ll become members. That’s another step in the right direction, because…

Fourth, I’ve narrowed down my goals. In June, I said I wanted to be either a Buddhist chaplain or a Unitarian minister. I’ve thought about it a lot since then, and I’ve decided that I want to be a Unitarian minister. I have so much respect for chaplains, but that’s not the work I want to do. I want to build and nourish and challenge an intentional community, and that means being a minister in a church with a congregation.

I have a long way to go. I need to finish my BA, get accepted to a Master’s of Divinity program, find a way to pay for all that and, hopefully, do it without moving while working full-time. So there’s a lot left to figure out. But after half a year of stasis, I feel like I’m moving forward. I’m happy about that, and grateful for the support of my friends and family. Keep me on the path, OK?

2 Comments

Charting A Course For The Next Part Of My Life

Not too long ago I had an enormous personal disappointment that turned into a major epiphany. Before I tell you about the epiphany, I want to fill in a little bit of background.

I’ve written many times in recent years about my struggle to figure out what to do with my life. I’ve had dozens of jobs since leaving college after one year in 1993, and none has ever satisfied me. I’ve even done quite a few of my “dream jobs,” including working as a musician, a radio announcer, and a comedian. For a long time I was hard on myself about my indecisiveness, although more recently Josh Korda, my Buddhist mentor, has helped me stop pathologizing my life choices.

When I was a kid, my Aunt Linda introduced me to Father Edgar Holden, a Franciscan friar she worked with in a Catholic school. He used to call me “Jaybird.” And no, none of you are allowed to call me that. Anyway, there was something magical about Father Ed. I was a Catholic, and had of course seen many priests, even at that young age, so I don’t think it was just his superhero suit. He had an aura, for lack of a better word. He wasn’t pompous or anything like that. In fact he spent most of his time cracking jokes. But I could just tell that behind the humor was something else. I didn’t know what, but I liked it and wanted to be part of it. So I decided to be a priest. (And also, sometime soon after, a paleontologist.)

When I was a tween, my family and I jumped ship from the Catholic church and became Methodists. Not for theological reasons, but because we liked the pastors on that side of Main Street in our town better than the priests on the other side. When we switched, I met Rev. David Durham and Rev. John Holt, the pastor and associate pastor of the church. Both were inspiring men, in very different ways. David was the model of the learned theologian. He spoke several languages and read even more, and talked with a calm voice no matter what was happening. John was a nut. This is the image I always remember: John riding his bicycle down the center aisle of the church, a rubber chicken poking out over the basket. I looked at these two men and thought yup, I still want to be a minister. At one point during high school, I went with John to Colgate Rochester Divinity School to check out a seminary class.

At the age of 15, I realized I didn’t believe in god, largely because it was around this time that I made my first atheist friend and learned that was an option. And just like that, the idea of being a religious leader seemed dead. I’d never heard of Unitarians at this point.

During my second time in Japan, from 1996-98, I started to explore Buddhism. To cut a long story short, I’m now a Buddhist in addition to being an atheist. Buddhism opened up a new possible path, that of being an interfaith chaplain at a hospital or college or prison. I applied twice to Naropa University in Boulder, but couldn’t afford to go either time.

My life has had many twists and turns in the past, well, 41 years, but even more so in the past five. I got divorced, moved around a lot, became homeless at one point, and ended up living in the one town in the United States I said I’d never live in, having visited it many times while married to a former resident. (Side note: It’s going pretty well, actually.)

So here we are, in 2015. And back to my disappointment. Without going into the nature of it, I’ll just say that I chased something and didn’t catch it. The process of not catching it turned into a one-night reevaluation of the path I’m on. And the next morning, I realized what I need to do.

My friend and fellow union organizer Rev. Mike Roberts told me about 10 years ago that I was more prone to the religious impulse than anyone he’d ever met. John Holt, the guy with the chicken, told me a few years after that that I needed to “get paid to love people.” And ever since I was a little kid, I’ve known that a life in an intentional community is what I want. And thus, the epiphany:

I’m going to figure out how to be either a Buddhist chaplain or a Unitarian minister.

I have a few things to do first. I have some college loans in default, and I need to get them out of default so I can get more loans and finish my bachelor’s degree. (I was only in college as a full-time student for one year, but many years later I went back and nearly finished a degree at SUNY Empire State.) Then I need to enter either a Buddhist chaplaincy program or a Unitarian divinity school. I’m extremely poor, so I also need to figure out a way to add to my current income, both right now to survive, and during the years it will take me to finish school. I have two young kids in State College, so I hope to be able to stay here while doing all this.

Later this year I’m going to turn 42. (The answer!) All my life I’ve been saying “I’m only 25 … I’m only 30 … I’m only 35 …” Well, I’m not getting any younger, and I’ve felt called to do this work my entire life. If not now, when? Probably never. So: now!

I’m telling you all this for two reasons: first, because I tend to write about my life very publicly all the time; and second, because I’ll need my community’s help to stay on target and to accomplish these goals. I’m defining “community” very broadly.

It’s time. Time to do the thing I’ve known I wanted to do since I first looked up and saw Father Ed’s clerical collar. I want to help lead an intentional community of people who care about one another, who work for social justice, and who are guided by a strong ethical system. I’m a little daunted by the sheer amount of work in front of me, but I’m even more excited by what waits on the other side.

13 Comments

1,243 Hours: Looking Back At Two Years Of Meditation

On the cushion tonight on my 2-year anniversary.
On the cushion tonight on my 2-year anniversary.

Today is the second anniversary of my daily meditation practice. I’ve gone 730 days without missing a day of meditation. It’s probably the longest run I’ve ever had with any intentional activity. Even during all my years as a musician, there were certainly days I didn’t practice or play.

I’ve been meditating on and off for about 15 years. I first became interested in Buddhism when I lived in Japan from 1996-98, and then started meditating and reading with various levels of seriousness a couple years after that.

Two years ago today, when this daily practice began, I was in New York City, midway through my Jazz Or Bust tour. I was staying at the home of my friends Daryl and Deborah in Brooklyn. I had no permanent home, carried everything I needed in a backpack, and I was traveling the US and Canada as part of a 6-month, 13,000-mile bus tour of jazz and poetry. I was at the tail end of a beautiful relationship, and I hadn’t yet come up with a plan for after the tour. All that uncertainty was probably what pushed me to really focus on making meditation part of my everyday life.

One year ago today I was living in Auburn, Alabama. I’d lost my permatemp job at the university and had just finished a successful Kickstarter campaign to bring back my show, The Jazz Session. Within a couple weeks I’d be on the road once again, first to Detroit, then to PA, then to NYC and then back to PA, where I decided to live.

Tonight, I’m living in State College, PA. I have a great job. I’m in the same town as my two young sons. My personal life has its ups and downs, but I’m in the best place I’ve ever been as far as my mental health goes. I feel more grounded and more able to deal with my emotions than ever. And I have a strong sense of who I am. I owe a lot of that to the time I’ve spent on the cushion over the past two years. Therapy and drugs have helped, too.

So thank you to everyone who’s helped me find a quiet space on the road for meditating. Thanks to my mentor, Josh Korda, for all his help over the past year. Thanks to the friends and family who’ve supported me. And thanks to all of you for reading this.

One of my favorite things Josh says is the little mantra he uses in times of difficulty: “I love you. Keep going.” I use it now, too. And I recommend it to you. Tell yourself, whenever you need to hear it,

I love you. Keep going.

Leave a Comment

Why I’m shifting from Zen to Theravada

ajahn-brahm I started my Buddhist practice about 15 or so years ago, firmly in the Soto Zen tradition. In the past couple years, I’ve slowly started shifting over to the Theravada tradition, which, for me, offers more practical and useful techniques that I can apply to my daily life. (Your mileage may vary.) Today I talked to my dharma teacher, Josh Korda, about wanting something new for my meditation practice, where I’ve recently felt like I’m wandering. He suggested using guided meditations, which is something I’ve stayed away from. So I’m trying it, starting with these 30-minute guided meditations by Ajahn Brahamavamso.

Leave a Comment

The angel is in the details

1604784_262326820594048_334582355_n

This weekend I stayed with my friends Daryl and Deborah in Brooklyn. On Saturday night they gave me the gift of a meal. And believe me, when Daryl and Deborah cook for you, it’s a gift.

Watching them work together in the kitchen was beautiful. First, it’s obvious how much they love one another and how much joy they take in preparing meals together. The whole process of cooking was like a partly choreographed, partly improvised dance. One person moving to the island in the middle of the kitchen to chop or read a recipe as the other moves to the stove to stir or add a bit of spice. One getting a bowl from the cabinet as the other pulls leaves off a stem. It was like watching a ballet where the story was being written by the dancers right there in the moment.

But what struck me even more was their attention to detail. Every part of the cooking process – deciding what to make and which dishes would go together, preparing the ingredients, cooking those ingredients, choosing the right serving containers and utensils – was carefully thought out, discussed, and agreed upon. There was a moment when Daryl and Deborah were picking exactly the right spoon for serving the chana dal, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of the love and joy and care that they put into meals and into taking care of their guests.

I’ve always appreciated people who care about the tiny details. Knowing the names of all the parts of a machine or the parts of speech or the intricacies of a piece of music. I once dated someone who said she only dated nerds, in other words, people who had at least one thing in which they were deeply interested. I still think that’s sound advice. Watching my friends cook brought that home. (Of course, the beautiful thing about D&D is that they bring that same level of passion and attention to many other things in addition to cooking.)

Being with Daryl and Deborah is inspiring in many ways. They’re a living lesson in mindfulness. I’m going to pay more attention to what they’re teaching.

Leave a Comment