It seems self-indulgent to share one's dreams with anyone but one's mate, closest friend, or psychiatrist.  What seems fascinating to the dreamer may be tiresome to the disinterested listener-who has her own dreams.  Nonetheless:

One night a couple of years ago, I had seven lovely dreams. In most of the dreams, flying was a central theme.

When I woke up, there were many vivid images in my mind.  I began going through the 
images, describing them in my mind in as much detail as I could. To my surprise 
the details kept coming. I remembered fully dream after dream.  When I finished 
remembering and recalling all the details of the seven dreams I went back to the 
beginning and started over.  I spent the rest of the night recalling and remembering and
savoring the dreams. I had never had an experience like this. I usually feel 
lucky to recall details of even one dream. The next evening I did it again, and 
again, could recall everything. I spent many nights recalling the seven dreams. 

They seem, at least in part,  like a poem or story about  my spiritual journey in the Catholic and Buddhist
traditions.  After being raised a Catholic, leaving the church in high school, and finding Buddhism,
 I returned to the Catholic Church. I have been practicing in both traditions for 20 years.

The first dream happens in the hallway of a public building, with high ceilings, stone walls
and marble columns. It is shadowy and empty of people- cold and austere.  There is a table in the hallway with all of my worldly possessions on it- mostly clothes it seems. In the pockets of the clothes
are stuffed scraps of paper; each scrap is filled completely, almost desperately, with writing.
It reminds me of the scene from the film, “A Beautiful Mind”, which shows us the room
where the main character has written and posted thousands of notes about his schizophrenic
obsession with an imagined spy scenario.  In the dream I think, “If people were to read these
notes, they would think I’m crazy”, then the firm conviction, “but they’re wrong”.

The second dream takes place in a large room in a private home.  The room is large and spacious with no furniture, yet warm and inviting; it is sunny and bright with white walls, a hardwood floor and lots of
windows revealing green trees and shrubbery.  In the middle of the room in a chair sits an
old woman.  I can't identify who she is, but I feel great warmth and affection for her.  Maybe she is one or more of the women who have served as a spiritual guide to me.  There then appears a group of dogs, quiet and well-behaved, and  fairly large- waist-high or so.  I am in the room, floating several feet off the floor.  One of the dogs comes up to me on its hind legs,as if reaching up to me.  I attempt to lift it up but I can’t.  In the next moment there is a large group of people in the room.  They are excited that I am “flying” and they applaud me. .  I think, “It’s no big deal, I’m just a couple feet off the ground”.

In the third dream, I’m flying high above a lovely, European-looking village with stucco houses and
shops and cobblestone streets.  It is dusk and there is a warm golden glow in the air.  I have
 a beautiful view of the sun setting on the bright horizon.  Many people are out and about on the
streets below, and to my surprise, many others are in the air, flying with me. In the dream
this is an epiphany- “There are others who fly!”.  It makes me happy. Even better, the folks on the ground and in the air all seem to know and care about one another; we are not strangers but part of a community.  The flying people are all moving in the direction of the sun.

The fourth dream happens in a cozy suburban home. There are happy playful young children and
pillows and cushions all around.  There is a beautiful Indian woman.  I have come for her to
massage me, to give me some kind of help and healing.  I am happy and comforted
to be here. I lay down; standing over me on my right is the woman, on my left is
a man from my Buddhist meditation group- an ex-Jesuit who is now an atheist. I notice the Indian
woman’s neck which is full of wrinkles.  I’m disappointed, because I was romantically attracted to
her, but now I think she is too old for me. The ex- Jesuit leans over me and kisses the woman. 
I’m surprised and intrigued.  I have mixed feelings about the kiss, smiling about it- but what does it
mean?

In the fifth dream I am on a well-known street in my home town with a man who is a part-time
chaplain where I work. I see him as a good hearted follower of church dogma. He is a
deacon in the Catholic church and a man of simple reverent faith.  He is one of the most kind
and gentle people I know.  He is my guide. The street we are on is well known to me,
but I know it as being in a different part of town.  So we have discovered this familiar street, only there
is another version of it in another place than what I am used to.  The street reminds me of the
European village in dream #3.  We have reached a point where my guide can either return to his home,
which is close by, or continue with me on the path.  I tell him to go home- I’ll be fine.
Suddenly we are at a body of water.  It is ocean-like- a deep blue and vast so you can’t
see across it, but peaceful like a lake.  Suddenly I take off and leave my guide behind on the ground.  I
look back and see him receding away from me as I head out over the water.  Suddenly I’m afraid..
“Can I fly well enough to make it across the water?”

In the sixth dream I’ve arrived at a church, and there are a few women in the vestibule with me.
It reminds me of the Methodist church I know- a sprawling structure with a large sanctuary
and many, many attached rooms for meetings and such. The women leave the vestibule
and go to the sanctuary.  A man comes into the vestibule.  He is the pastor of the church,
perhaps a well-known local religious figure.  He is smiling broadly and embraces me.  My feeling is 
he is only interested in me because he knows I can fly.  I’m ill at ease with him.

In the seventh dream I’m flying very high and very fast.  I become aware that my body is soft
and vulnerable.  I could be hurt if I hit something, a bug, a speck of dust,  while flying.  I wish I had a pair of goggles to protect my eyes but there are none.  Suddenly there are many pastel colors and candies in the sky with me.  Somehow the scene invokes the presence, joy and playfulness of children. I feel calm, secure and happy. Then, I begin to suspect that all these flying experiences are just a dream.  I’m sad and disappointed.  To encourage myself that it isn’t a dream I fly over to a large bush.  I think if I can feel the texture of the leaves it will prove that my experience is real- not a dream.  I reach out and can feel the texture of the leaves- then I wake up.

Jesus was once asked when the kingdom of God would come. The kingdom of God, Jesus
replied, is not something people will be able to see and point to. Then came
these striking words: “Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for,
behold, the kingdom of God is within you.” (Luke 17:21)

A player shall not dribble a second time after the player’s first dribble
has ended, unless the player subsequently loses control because
of: a. A try for field goal; b. A bat by an opponent; c. A pass or fumble that
has then touched or been touched by another player.
                                                               (Section 7: Article 1)
                                                               NCAA 2013 Men's And Women's Basketball Rulebook

These reflections are only my own poetic and playful  imaginings, which have emerged from my life of studying and practicing Buddhism and Christianity.  I'm not attempting to speak in an authoritative way as to the nature of Buddhism and Christianity.  I hope these words are helpful, but if they aren't please let them pass like clouds on a windy day.

If you take everything that we now describe as Christian,  all of the texts, every bible, every book, every church, every song and prayer, every practice, and every person, and remove them from the face of the earth, the presence of the Living Christ on earth would not be diminished at all. The living Christ of unconditional love, of simplicity, of intimate connection with and responsibility for all life, would attempt to manifest in this world again and again, as it has so many time in the past (in Buddhism, in Native American spirituality, in Hinduism)

If you see the Buddha in the road, kill him. Because the living Buddha is not something outside of yourself. Kill the idea of the Buddha as a fixed being, separate from you. The living Buddha can only manifest out of our life and being in the present moment, when we touch life deeply with a heart and mind of openness and love. You won't find the living Buddha by following Thich Nhat Hanh or the Dalai Llama- though it might help you to follow them.  You won't find the living Christ in the Bible, or modern theology- though it might help you to study them. But being the best disciple of Thich Nhat Hanh,  being the most expert Christian scholar is not touching the Living Buddha, the Living Christ.  In fact, those things can become a hindrance if we become too attached to them. We must find the living Buddha, the living Christ in life as we live it.

In all the cosmos, the only thing that is real is the present moment of life that we are living- everything else is just a thought, it does not have the nature of living reality.  If you want to find the living Christ, the kingdom of God, you must find them right now, in this moment, not in some distant world of your or someone else's imagining. Failing to find Christ in this moment, we must find him in the next, whatever that moment may consist of- a prison cell, a wonderful job, a difficult marriage, a loving family, a painful death, sudden wealth.

Compared with the living reality of this present moment, our religion, science and philosophy are vast architecture, or poetry that we have created (in response to that reality).

James Naismith invented the game of basketball. With a peach basket and a round ball, he created something which hadn't existed before.  Out of this invention a vast world has emerged.  A world of legends and stories, and rules and regulation, and leagues and fans, of extraordinary skill, grace and beauty, of money greed and ugliness, of brutality, of TV, stars, and owners.  Some people spend the great majority of their life energy and attention living inside this world.  It's ok to spend a lot of time in the world of basketball, if we don't mistake it for the deep reality of life. That is suffering-we invest our heart and mind and being in a world of temporary, shifting manifestations of reality.  It's wonderful that we are able to spend our time in the world of Buddhism, in the world of Christianity- they can help us a lot if we don't mistake them for the deep reality of life.  We don't live in a Buddhist cosmos, a Christian cosmos, or even a basketball cosmos- they are temporary manifestations of the deep reality of life.

In conclusion, I offer this little parable:

Three Fish

Once there were three fish who lived in a cool mountain stream.  Life was, for them, simple, delicious, and fresh. . . heaven.  One day a boulder shook loose form the mountain and crashed through the water striking one of the fish.  The fish suffered from the wound and, gradually becoming helpless, was eaten by a larger fish.  All of this was witnessed by the other two.  Having suddenly become aware of the inevitability of their own suffering and death, the two plunged from heaven into a hell of fear and sorrow.

The first of the two decided that the stream was not safe- he could no longer live there. He gathered scraps of stick, bark and plant and, fashioning a raft, climbed out of the stream.   Soon others joined him.  They felt safer now that they could anticipate falling rocks and avoid the larger fish in the stream. 

Soon a large and painful longing came upon them- to return to the stream.  However, over time they forgot the cause of their longing.  In order to alleviate their suffering, they brought many things onto the raft with them: songs, stories, poems, dancing, crafts, cuisine, philosophy, work, economy, religion.  In response to this painful longing, they fashioned a vast culture, a world where they could abate their longing for awhile.  But whenever they rested from the creation of and living out this culture, the longing returned.  Thus, they were compelled to resume, again and again, the burden/blessing of what they had made.

The second fish was much less industrious.  She remained in the stream, remained in grief and pain and fear. She ate grief, swam pain and slept fear.  She held and carried this painful reality as her life- her self. For a long time she suffered a lot.  One day something wonderful happened.  She didn't really know what it was or where it came from.  She was swimming in the stream.  She began to notice, again, as if for the first time, how cool and refreshing the stream was.  She saw the rocks along the side of the stream- she was aware of their color and texture.  She was aware of the larger fish and the smaller fish- how different from one another, how beautiful they all were!  She saw the light of the sun shining deep into the stream, saw the vegetation that grew along the banks.  How fresh and wondrous this stream was!  She was deeply moved.  In that moment, something turned inside her.  A deep peace came upon her.

She recalled the fears that had haunted her.  She knew that she too would die one day.  But now it was clear to her that she would always be part of the life of the stream- how would it be possible for her to leave it?

Suddenly a shadow passed over head- it was the raft carrying the fish that had left the stream.  Her heart filled with compassion.  She decided she must try to communicate the great truth that she had discovered.  But how she had suffered to realize that truth- that her true nature was not that of a fish, but of the stream!  Would the others be willing to fully endure this suffering in order that they might be fully freed from it?

 
In this article, Thich Nhat Hanh compares the Christian notion of "Holy Spirit" to the Buddhist notion of "mindfulness". This is likely to be a matter of contention with at least some Christian theologians. Reading a number of Christian reviews of Thich Nhat Hanh's book ""Living Buddha, Living Christ", the most oft-heard criticism is that the Buddhist is interpreting the Christian concepts through a Buddhist filter- and thus, getting it wrong.  A Buddhist will compare Christian concepts to his experience of
reality then weave it creatively into the Buddhist, poetic description of the world, with the understanding that all of the words- the Christian theology, the Buddhist teachings, and his poetic attempt to weave
them together-are all of a completely different nature than the deep, living,reality of life. The Buddhist doesn't take the words so seriously as a Christian might (he might say, “OK if that concept doesn't work for you, how about this one?”). Using words and concepts to describe reality is like using
grains of sand to describe the ocean.  The Buddhist experience, born of meditation, is that concepts we use to describe reality are not an absolute truth, but a kind of poetry, pointing to our experience of reality. Buddhism is always saying, don't get attached to the ideas and concepts, or you won't be
able to touch deeply the truth of the living reality before you. So Thich Nhat Hanh takes a bit of Buddhist poetry, “mindfulness”, and compares it to a bit of Christian poetry, "the Holy Spirit".

When I was doing my masters work in Christian Spirituality, one of my last classes was on Catholic Doctrine. At some point in the class, I asked the teacher if "God", "Christ" and "Holy Spirit" are considered poetic expressions pointing to the mystery of God, or are they fundamental entities existing in some absolute way in the world. "It is the latter"- she said. As we prepared to write our final papers for the class, I asked her if I could talk about the Buddhist approach to doctrine for my paper. She said yes. I described the Buddhist notion- all concepts, all theology, cannot express the deep reality of life- only a relative description of some aspect of that reality.  I handed in the paper on the last day of class and never got it back. My final grade went down from the "A" it had been to a "B".

Here is Thich Nhat Hanh's article:

Many years ago when I visited Italy, I met a Catholic priest who organized a public talk for me. We had time to talk with each other, and I asked him this question: “My friend, what is the Holy Spirit to you?” And he said that the Holy Spirit is the energy of God, sent by God to us. I thought that expression is
beautiful, and as a Buddhist practitioner I can accept it very easily.

The Holy Spirit is the kind of energy that helps you to be compassionate, to be healed of your ill being. I
think Catholics and Protestants would agree about that: the Holy Spirit is the agent of healing, of transformation, of joy, of being there.

In Buddhist circles, we say very much the same thing to describe mindfulness. To us, mindfulness is the energy that can help us to be there, in the here and the now. Mindfulness helps us to be alive, and since we are there, we are capable of touching life deeply, of understanding, of accepting, of loving.
If we continue to develop that energy of understanding and loving, then we will get the healing and transformation that we need. That is why the Holy Spirit is exactly what we call the energy of mindfulness.

I can say that a Buddha or a bodhisattva is someone who is made of the energy of mindfulness. Each of us has a seed of mindfulness within ourselves. If we practice walking, sitting, smiling, breathing, eating, doing things every day with mindfulness, we help that seed of mindfulness in us to grow, and it will generate that energy of  mindfulness that helps us to be alive, fully present in the here and the now, helping us to understand, to accept, forgive, and to love, to be healed. That is why it is correct to say that the energy of mindfulness is the energy of a Buddha, of a bodhisattva.

We have that energy in ourselves, and if we know how to practice, we can generate that energy from
within. To me, the expressions “Holy Spirit” and “Mindfulness” both point to the same thing—something that is very concrete, that is available us in  the here and the now, and not just an idea, a notion.

Dear Friends,

I've been contemplating how to use this blog aspect of our web site.  Practicing in both the Christian and Buddhist traditions these past 20 year,  my hope and intention is that Christianity and Buddhism should find a way to be together as sister and brother, helping, supporting, teaching and nourishing one another as they each seek to bring healing and well being to human culture. This is also Thich Nhat Hanh's vision as expressed in his books, "Living Buddha, Living Christ" and "Going Home, Jesus and the Buddha as Brothers", and in his encouragement to Westerners who have taken up a Buddhist practice to go back to their ancestral faith tradition and "find the jewels buried there" and to "find a way to help".

 So I think, at least initially, I would like to use this space to share, reflect, and dialogue about these two beautiful spiritual traditions. For me, it is Christian/Buddhist because those are the two traditions I have spent my life studying and practicing in. But I hope people with connections to other spiritual traditions will feel free to offer from their experience.

In the Buddhist/Christian dialogue section of this web site I have already collected a dozen or so beautiful reflections from Christian and Buddhist writers/teachers, including Joan Chittister, Thich Nhat Hanh, Thomas Merton, Athony DeMello, and David Stendl-Rast.  I humbly include some of my own reflections in this section.

I thought I would begin posting these reflections in our blog section. That way people can comment on the post, and hopefully a genuine, loving,  mindful dialogue could emerge.

To begin the dialogue, I will share this brief story about the Catholic monk, David Stendl-Rast:

 David Stendl-Rast, a Catholic monk, who had been studying and practicing Buddhist meditation on his own, wanted permission from his superiors to study with a Buddhist monk/teacher.  The superiors invited the teacher to spend some time in the monastery and requested to interview him at the end of his stay.The teacher lived at the monastery for several days working, living and practicing with the Catholic monks. At the end of his stay the superiors interviewed the Buddhist teacher.

After the interview the superiors talked with Stendl-Rast.  They  said that the Buddhist teacher’s answers to their questions made no sense to them, but they could see by the way he lived that he was a deeply spiritual person. They gave permission for Stendl-Rast to study and practice with the Buddhist Teacher.

This story reminds me of the "Road to Emmaus" scripture in the Bible.  After his death and resurrection, Jesus met some of his disciples on the road to Emmaus.  The disciples at first did not recognize Jesus- he had experienced death and re-birth.  In outward form and appearance, he was not the same.

Upon their arrival in Emmaus the disciples encouraged Jesus to have dinner with them.  And it was here, "in the breaking of bread" "their eyes were opened" and they recognized Jesus as their beloved teacher who had just been crucified. In "living with" the risen Jesus they saw the true Christ, beyond external forms and appearances.

The external forms of our religious teachings and practices are relative, poetic means to help us open to the living reality of life in this moment. As it is expressed in the the Mindfulness trainings of Thich Nhat Hanh's Order of Interbeing (adapted):

"I am determined not to be idolatrous about or bound  to any doctrine, theory or ideology... Buddhist (Christian, Jewish, etc)  teachings are  guiding means to help me learn to look deeply and to develop my understanding  and compassion. They are not doctrines to fight, kill or die for.... Truth is found  in life and I will observe life within and around me in every moment, ready to  learn throughout my life."