This page includes a few of Lynne's self-help articles and articles for writers that appeared in magazines, newspapers and on the Internet. It will be updated periodically. Check back.[MAGAZINE EDITORS: This website is designed to inspire and motivate readers of Lynne's books. These articles are targeted for that audience. However, Lynne writes for all audiences, the general public, abuse survivors, seniors, therapists, and professionals in various fields. Dozens of Lynne's articles have been published in magazines, journals, and newspapers, covering subjects ranging from psychology, health, spirituality, self-help, travel and consumer advice to government, law, finance, economics, and international issues.]Scroll down for the "Mystical Secrets of Tibetan Monks" which appeared in The Journal, August 1999. The article includes a self-inquiry technique for self-realization.Scroll to the end of the "Mystical" article for Lynne's true story, "Lady Godiva and the Bee" about a mystical encounter with a bumblebee published in Chicken Soup to Inspire the Body and Soul, 2003.WRITERS: check out Lynne's article on how to promote your writings, "Promote Your Book on Radio and TV - on a Shoestring," in the January 2001 issue of ByLine magazine, a national magazine for writers. Also find out how to tap into your unlimited creativity in "Your Creative Toolbox", Byline, December 2001. Copies available by request.Lynne's article, "Millennium Mania: Been There, Done That," includes fascinating positive facts and prophecies about the millennium and appeared in "The Journal." You can read it on newsmax.com. (Scroll down the newsmax home page and type "lynne finney" - without the quotes - in the Search NewsMax box on the left. When the new page comes up, scroll down to the article and click on it.) MYSTICAL SECRETS OF TIBETAN MONKS A huge white snow lion prances onto the stage, white fake fur draped with bright green silk streamers flying to the rhythm of Tibetan drums, cymbals and long golden horns. The lion is uncannily catlike, undulating with such joy and freedom that you forget the immense head and front legs are controlled by one monk and the rear legs by another. Leaping and frolicking to the raucous music, the snow lion wags its tail with pleasure, then rolls over and licks its paws like a giant tabby. The audience roars with delight. For Tibetans, the snow lion symbolizes the fearless and elegant quality of the enlightened mind. The message of the dance is that when a harmonious environment is established by the creative activities of human beings, such as through the performance of sacred healing music, all living beings, represented by the dancing snow lion, rejoice. ***** The head monk, Nagawang Phenday, has an infectious smile. Dark almond-shaped eyes sparkle in a round face framed by long, carefully trimmed sideburns topped by closely cropped black hair. He's exotic, other worldly, with a maroon robe draped over a saffron shirt, a bright red undershirt peeking out underneath, and a bracelet of wooden beads. Phenday teaches Westerners how to eliminate suffering and attain happiness through Buddhist beliefs. He emphasizes that Buddhism is more a science than a religion. People do not have to be in a religious order to apply these principles. He says unhappiness is caused by our thoughts: "The mind is formless, but its nature is clarity. Our thoughts create our unhappiness, not the outside world. Our internal enemy is the one who snatches our happiness. A very terrible enemy who makes a very big suffering. Knowing one's own mind is more important than knowing someone else's mind." According to Phenday, three things create suffering. "The first is diluted emotions such as anger, hatred, greed, and jealousy, the mental poisons. The second is attachment, the expectation of getting happiness in return for our love. This type of love is unstable, changeable, selfish. The Buddhist idea of love and compassion is free from attachment. Loving means having compassion for other sentient beings. It is selfless. Buddhist practices emphasize cherishing others before oneself." Phenday acknowledges that selfless love may be difficult for some people. "If you can't do this, begin with having love half toward yourself and half toward others. All sentient beings have the same desire for happiness and freedom from suffering. Turn this feeling over to other sentient beings: 'May all beings be free from suffering.' To free self from pain and suffering, desire to free others from pain and suffering." Ignorance is the third cause of suffering. It is what Phenday calls the "ignorance mind" and Westerners call the ego. He explains that the ego is the "the grasping of the self, the grasping of separate existence. If you look for your "I" self in your body, it's not there. We can never find the self that grasps. We find emptiness. That is our nature. If we go on an analytical search, we find that nothing exists. We never find that self." Phenday's graceful hands move constantly in an emphatic dance, reflecting his enthusiasm and conviction. "Things don't exist as we perceive them. We find the emptiness of inherent existence. Emptiness, not absence of existence." Only Self-realization or enlightenment brings true happiness. Phenday believes one of the most effective ways to reach this state is through a practice called Self-inquiry. "If the body is hurt, we say 'I am hurt.' But the body is not the self. Search for the self when you go to bed. Try to find the self. Where is it? Ask yourself, where is 'I?' Search in your body to find where "I" is." Phenday asks if anyone has found the place where "I" is. A woman raises her hand and says she feels her "I" in her heart, in the sound of her heart beating. Phenday asks if she knows about heart transplants. The woman nods, saying she's a nurse. Phenday asks, "If you had a dog's heart transplanted into you, does that mean you would become a dog? Even if the heart is changed, we don't change. If I cut my leg off, this leg is not me." Although Phenday claims to speak "verry leettle Engleesh," during his lecture he appeared to listen to the English translation and correct the translator. When asked about this contradiction, he stared inscrutably for a long moment before bursting into exuberant laughter enveloping his whole body. He agreed to be interviewed without a translator over the next three days, speaking excellent English with a slight Indian British accent. Phenday said his parents fled from Tibet to India in 1959 to escape the Chinese campaign of genocide in Tibet. Ten years later he was born in Darjeerling. A year later, the family moved to Nepal. At the age of five, Phenday and his oldest brother were sent to a school for Tibetan refugees in India. By the time Phenday was ten, he wanted to be a monk. The master monk said Phenday was too young to make that decision. Two years later, Phenday visited his parents in Nepal and received their permission to become a monk. After studying in a small monastery in Nepal for over a year, Phenday transferred to the Drepung Loseling Monastery in India. Phenday described the Monastery as like a university where students study Buddhist philosophy, arts and sciences. Leaving Nepal was "very hard" for Phenday because he was used to a cold climate and broke out in hives and skin diseases from the Indian heat. He spent seven years away from his parents before he was allowed to go home for a two-month visit. At thirty, Phenday has completed 18 years of study and has two years left. In 1991, the abbot asked Phenday to travel to the U.S., Canada, and Mexico to share his healing arts because he speaks English and Spanish, in addition to Tibetan and other languages. He has been on the road ever since, bringing Tibet's mystical healing arts to the world in a time he believes of great need for the healing of living beings and the environment. Phenday's parents are still alive and he visits them in Nepal for two months every couple of years. He speaks with affection of his younger brother who is also a monk, an older brother does artwork in wood, and two younger sisters in school in Nepal. After a spaghetti lunch at an Italian restaurant, Phenday joins
the other monks in painting an intricate mandala with colored sand.
He is surrounded by curious Westerners often stereotype Tibetan monks as ascetics from a mystical culture who have attained spiritual heights ordinary people cannot hope to reach. But Phenday and the other monks dispel this image. After a vegetarian dinner provided by their hosts, the monks go out to eat hamburgers. They argue, tease each other and play like college dormmates. Today Phenday is wearing his robe, but some of the other monks lounge on the floor in blue jeans and ski parkas. Phenday reveals his human foibles when he explains why he became a monk. "Anger, jealousy and pride, that's why I become a monk. If I only have love and compassion, then why would I become a monk? I have diluted emotions and I need to study and practice; that's why I become a monk. All sentient beings are the same." Although he has studied many Buddhist practices, Phenday found the practice of "good heart or compassion" the most helpful in his own life. "If we need happiness and don't like suffering, if we like to enjoy, then first we must analyze what is the cause of enjoying. If we find the cause of enjoyment, we will find it easy to enjoy. If a farmer likes corn or rice, he first must find the cause of corn or rice. He asks people in the market for the cause of corn or rice. Then gets seeds - the cause. The root cause of enjoyment is love for others. If other people enjoy, we enjoy. If I need all these things, no enjoy. So much suffering! "Love and compassion practice is very hard for most people because we have very strong self thought. I need, I need. Strong 'I', not strong for others. Who makes difficulties? Self thought. If people want the skin of an animal, they kill the animal. Self thought. They like only the skin. They don't consider the suffering of the animal. Small example." Many North Americans believe people in the East have a monopoly on enlightenment. We suffer from a spiritual inferiority complex, brainwashed by the popular myth that we are violent, selfish, materialistic, and obsessed with technology. Although we have our faults and challenges, and some people are still in the dark, we also put our compassion into practice in many ways. In the West, free education is available to all children. Although we have an abundance of wealth and material goods, we pay substantial taxes to support an enormous variety of programs to improve the lives of our citizens. We invent new technologies to help people, such as motorized wheel chairs, prosthetic devices, and beepers at crosswalk to guide the blind through traffic. Charitable donations and volunteer efforts in the United States and Canada are among the highest in the world. And a suprising number of Americans have reached Self-realization, without donning maroon robes. Many children and teenagers are spiritually sophisticated. At a high school in Salt Lake City where the monks performed, a student carried a green backpack on which she had written "The end of forever, the beginning of eternity," a fairly advanced spiritual concept for a teenager. A banner hanging in the school hallway proclaimed, "If you can dream it, you can do it!" Another teenage girl who didn't seem to have much money was excited about buying a "Free Tibet" bumper sticker for a dollar. Her concern for the plight of Tibet was surprising; at her age I was only concerned with popularity and impressing boys. I wasn't even aware of a place called "Tibet". Perhaps we in the West are further along spiritually than we think. The monks' most profound secret may be that the bluebird of happiness really is in our own backyard. We only have to realize it. ***** The monks begin mesmerizing multiphonic singing. Each monk sings three notes of a chord at the same time, some notes deeper than the lowest operatic basso. A deep peace sweeps over me. Suddenly my mind stops. I am only aware of the hypnotic sounds, sunlight on a child's cheek, the brilliant blue of the sky as a backdrop to the monks' maroon robes, particles of colored sand swirling down into the gently flowing river. There is no me, no grasping self. Only emptiness and peace. Only consciousness of being the river, the monks, the sand, the children, the sun, the music, the sky - we are one. I am the universe...the All That Is. Copyright Lynne D. Finney 1999 LADY GODIVA AND THE BEE Lady Godiva sashayed up the trail in front of me, sun shimmering on her white fur coat. Her hips swayed and tail wagged as she sniffed scents of hikers, dogs, and moose that had walked this path before us. I had rescued this slinky Samoyed from the Humane Society and was going to change her name until I learned Lady Godiva had been a heroine who made her nude ride to save her village from oppressive taxation. My Lady Godiva was also a heroine. She had rescued me from life as a couch potato by demanding two vigorous walks a day. Her curiosity and zest for life were contagious, propelling me away from my computer and into the Wasatch mountains. On this spring day, we had hiked for more than an hour, about a third of the way up a steep mountain. I needed to get back to work and didn't feel like struggling any higher. Turning back, I called Lady. Usually eager to start back because she got a treat, this time she sat down and stared at me. I understood her reluctance. The air was crisp and clear, the sky too blue to be real, and aspen leaves had begun to uncurl into tiny circles of chartreuse. The spicy scent of pines and pinions was intoxicating. I called again and Lady came back slowly for her Milkbone, tail between her legs. We walked about twenty feet down the trail when the bumblebee from hell appeared. This bee was the size of a child's fist. I'd never seen a bee so large. It circled a few feet from my body, buzzing like a cake mixer. I froze. Although startled, I wasn't afraid. I knew the bee wouldn't sting me unless I threatened it. Lady and other animals taught me that all creatures are intelligent and respond to our thoughts. If we send kind thoughts, animals won't hurt us. Native Americans know this - and avoid rattlesnake bites by greeting snakes as brothers, not with hate and fear. Standing motionless, I sent the bee a mental greeting. The bee continued to circle me. After a few minutes, I tried taking a step forward. The buzzing was louder as the bee circled closer. I stepped back. The circles widened. What was going on? Another step back. The circles grew even wider. Turning, I walked a few feet up the trail. The bee disappeared. Waiting a few minutes to be sure the bee had gone, I started walking slowly down the trail. The bee reappeared out of nowhere, buzzing a foot from my face. The universe sends us signs, not with loud voices or burning bushes, but in more ordinary ways, sometimes through animals. Native Americans revere animals as sacred messengers. This was certainly a sign. But to do what? I experimented, taking a few steps back up the trail. The bee abruptly vanished. Okay. I'm obviously supposed to go up the mountain. But why? I looked around for the bee. Nothing. Lady bounded up the trail, barking for me to follow. I obeyed. What was I supposed to do? Was climbing this mountain some kind of test? There had to be a purpose. Was there someone I was supposed to help, some challenge to be overcome, a lesson to be learned? Familiar anxiety churned my stomach. What if I couldn't do it? What if I wasn't good enough? What if the bee didn't mean anything and I was just crazy? I pushed through the fear by pumping my legs up the trail. Just keep going. Keep going. The path grew steeper and I had to stop to catch my breath. Although I'd been walking for almost two hours, the peak still seemed far away. I was afraid it would be dark before I could hike all the way up and then back down. Lady ran back toward me, startling me out of my worries with a couple of sharp barks. I looked up from the dirt trail. Bluebells waved at the edge of the precipice which dropped down to a valley of aspens, their new leaves dancing in the sunlight. A stream overflowing with melted snow gushed through valley. But I didn't have time to stand and look. I had to get up the mountain. I had to find out what I was supposed to do. The path narrowed, spiraling up between stands of pines punctuated by snow patches. Lady ate snow, but I wasn't thirsty and pushed on. I had to find out why I'd been led up the mountain. Thoughts of a mission kept me ascending for another hour, even though the path climbed steadily. Without warning, we emerged from the forest darkness into a clearing filled with sunshine. We had reached the summit. A panorama of mountains, hills, and valleys in shades of green, yellow and brown melded into a Monet painting. Above, a hawk screeched, sun illuminating its red tail as it soared in lazy circles. Lady leaned quietly against my leg, letting me soak it all in. Filled with unfamiliar peace and gratitude, I was afraid to move, afraid it would all disappear, afraid it was too good to be true. Then I remembered. I hadn't completed my mission. Worry chased away peace. What was I sent here to do? A soft thought floated into my mind, the still small voice I'd come to recognize, always gentle and kind, never critical: "Nothing." "What do you mean, 'nothing'?" The words burst from my throat. Silence. What does "nothing" mean, I demanded mentally. There must be a purpose to this. A thought filled my head like the gentle glow of moonlight: "Enjoy. Be. Just BE." My body relaxed as tears filled my eyes. I didn't have to do anything. I didn't have to save the world. I didn't have to be perfect. I didn't have to prove I was "good." I didn't have to try. I just had to enjoy life, to drink in the beauty around me. I only had to be. Laughter erupted from deep inside, releasing all fear. I got the bee's message. As I laughed, Lady barked with delight. We danced together on the summit as the sun blazed from gold to red. When we started back, I was awake, fully aware of the miracles around me. I was aware of the rose and lavender sunset reflected in snow mounds encircling pine groves. My nose prickled with the pungent smell of sage bushes. Spring had come late with a medley of wildflowers bursting out all at once. Clumps of white and purple columbine, golden marsh daisies, and tiny pink star flowers created a giant patchwork quilt. A symphony of songbirds mixed with the hum of insects flooded my ears, punctuated by chattering squirrels. There was so much beauty that I forgot the time, forgot to worry about being tired, forgot even to think. I melded into the beauty. If I missed something especially lovely, Lady would point it out by barking. We stopped to watch a beetle lurch across the trail and a robin fly to her nest with a worm. We reached the paved road just as the indigo deepened to black. Lady led me home. Copyright Lynne D. Finney 2002, 2003 |
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high
school students. The creation of a sand painting is said to effect a
purification and healing on three levels. On the outer level, the mandala
represents the world in its divine form. On the inner level, it is a
map by which the ordinary human mind is transformed into enlightened
mind. On the secret level, it depicts the primordially perfect balance
of the subtle energies of the body and the clear light dimension of
the mind. When the mandala is finished, the monks destroy it to symbolize
the impermanence of all that exists in the material world.HOME | LYNNE | NEW CD & NEW BOOK | BOOKS | WORKSHOPS | SCHEDULE | MAIL | TALK | SURVIVORS
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