NEVER WANING GRATITUDE ?

"Pay heed that the three never wane..."
                                                            Teaching slogan


What "three" does this refer to?
Pema Chodron, Buddhist nun, explains that the lojong phrase is talking about gratitude: for the teacher, the teachings, the practices of this discipline. She also goes on to explain that the third point is to keep the basic vows of seeking to go into the world without a safety net; to remember and keep the Bodhisattva vow, which moves us beyond our own self-centered views of the world and our own opinions--nudging us (kick-starting us, really) into awakening our dead hearts and moving ourselves (as well as all sentient beings) further along the path.


Again, I am "blogging Buddhist adventures" here--my own short-lived experiences, (so far), and understandings. I am not a teacher of Buddhism. I am a student. I am sharing my writing and musings because that is something I CAN do. It is also something that is encouraged by most Buddhist teachers because only by sharing can we help each other along the path. This path: Life. So, for what it's worth, here are my exploits thinking about this lojong phrase.


Our teachers can be anyone. The Buddha rather pointedly explained this. However, I believe this phrase is also referring to specific teachers we have known to stay with us on our journey. These teachers never gave up on us--even as we screamed, cried, gave up on ourselves, and sometimes, even on them! Being forever grateful to my teachers is not something that I take lightly. If ever I honestly feel humble, it is in the presence of these beings of Light. I may grumble, I may protest, I may even argue or try to avoid their lessons, but in the end, I always benefit. I follow their words; their deeds; their insights. Sometimes slowly. Other times, it is instantaneous. (Usually after a terrible event...sigh...) So, into the world, ALL THANKS AND HONOR to my TEACHERS.


Next: gratitude for the teachings.  These include all the access I have, as an American, to books, articles in magazines, translations, classes, videos and the postings and blogs on the Internet. This includes translations I can receive and read and ponder on my own. These also include, of course, the one-on-one teachings from my Teachers. ALL my teachers. This goes back to the Buddha: the One who explained Enlightenment; lived it; offered his interpretation of it, and how we might understand our own lives better. I know that these teachings have made my life more compassionate in a very concrete way. I know they have "entered into me" in such a way that my philosophy of life is less agro; less desperate; less competitive; even, less angry.


It has not replaced Christianity, for me, as I believe Buddhist teaching is NOT a religion. It is a philosophy and an education about being in this dimension --in a much more detailed way--than religion can do. Religion is a matter of faith.  However, there are so many codes and warring standards--so many conflicts among every sect--"religion" has left me in confusion and frustration.




In an ironic way, the study of Buddhist principles has made me a better Christian; a better human. I cannot be like Jesus because I don't know enough about the nuts and bolts of Christ's life. (Too many conflicting stories; too many loose interpretations; too many scandals and hurtful practices by those who are supposed to clarify Christ's teachings and make them accessible in this world.) But I want to believe. So, I rely on "faith". However, the "owner's manual" to humanity seems to be Buddhist teachings on behavior and motivation. I want to "love my neighbor as myself". Buddhist philosophy gives me actual practices of mind and heart to become that loving person. (It's, for me, like therapy for my soul.) Buddha never claimed to be God. He never even claimed to be the Son of God. However, Buddha did have some tools to help me along the journey to God. Or Om.




Some Buddhists will disagree. That's okay. That's Buddhist, too! But, they won't fight about it and kill each other over their different interpretations. (Something Christians need to learn!) They won't hate each other nor excoriate each other about these things. As Buddhism has traveled country to country, it has changed. It has embraced cultures and made spaces for different people. (Again, something Christianity is far behind in.)  Perhaps I am all wrong about both. If so, I believe I will ultimately find my way to Truth. But for now, I have gratitude for the teachings and the teachers. All.




The last point that needs to be remembered are the vows one makes when one is ready. These include finding refuge, not in the outside world and its dreamspaces, but within ourselves. Within a community, however far-flung, which respects our journeys. Finding refuge in those who have gone before us and lit the darkness for us, like the Buddha. (You can study Buddhism and not take these vows, ever. However, it is likely, as the years progress and your heart begins to unfold, you will begin to live them.)




The Bodhisattva vow is harder to understand. My "take" on this is that we can choose to live as a bodhisattva (or choose to come back, after death, as one) by making every living moment mindful; prayerful; actively seeking to help all sentient beings wake up from this illusion and become free. Again, the irony is the parallel between what Jesus did with his day- to- day life and what Buddha did!  Compassion, compassion, compassion. Enlightenment. Teaching. All Love. No judgment. No hate. Highest Love. They were and are different Beings, but what they held out to us, as humans, was wrapped in ultimate peace.



Someday I will understand the vows of the Bodhisattva, completely. For now, I think of all the saints that  have come down through the ages...unsung as well as famous. Persons of Light whose only goals were to assist all sentient beings they encountered.


I know it goes deeper than just this simplistic view--as all of my Buddhist studies do. For now,  however, this is what I have to share.




So, be grateful.
Be open.
Be awake and aware.
 Love without stopping--even if it is hard or hurts or makes you (us) afraid.




Namaste.


      

YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE

"Of the two witnesses, hold the principal one."
                                                                          Lojong Teaching Slogan


 People love to give advice--especially if it isn't about a tough situation that they are involved with. It makes them (us) feel important and useful.  Advice from afar can, possibly, hold some amount of wisdom. We know that everybody has potential Enlightenment in their centers--it's a good idea to hear everybody out. However, ultimately, it comes down to heeding what your own Soul/Mind/Center says.


Pema Chodron, the great Buddhist Nun and teacher, tells us that all dharmas agree at one crucial point: ONLY we know what is happening, inside.


Only us.


What we are running from; what we are confronting; what we are denying; what we are expecting; what we are holding tight; what we are letting go...this is the "who" of "who we are and are becoming". We can present a perfect façade to the outside world--sparkling clean; melodious; sweet smelling; all the right plastic and bling ; a perfect relationship; a perfect occupation; even an adoring entourage to "have our backs". However, unless we understand the costs (as well as benefits) from not only acquisition of such things, but also the retention of them and how they hinder or aid in our karmic journey, it is nothing. Shadows and smoke. (Pollution?)


Only if we come to understand ourselves completely--all the hidden nooks and crannies--and are willing to face those ugly and lovely spaces--to take responsibility for them (wherever that leads)--will we attain the real answers we are searching out.

The weird part of what Buddhism teaches is that, eventually, it will happen to every sentient being. Actually, if we can just sit still and "listen", it will all come clean. (Understandable.) Clear. However, in this time of "hurry hurry hurry" and "disengage with anything not on a screen", sitting still and just "listening" is perhaps the hardest exercise of all. (Even in countries without access to "screen technology", the fall-out from the rest of us who do have access, impacts upon them. The detritus of our Westernized (shared global) culture forces even the most remote points of the planet to "hurry hurry hurry"--and to stress out--to fight.) So, teachings like the slogans, offer basic steps to learning how to slow down. To sit down. To listen to our Centers for the real answers.


We need to work with whatever comes to us in this world. To feel all it brings to face us. To see how it connects and informs our deepest self. Not to push the evidence out of our consciousness. Not to numb out--artificially or otherwise. Not even to struggle against this karma. We need to face ourselves honestly and then, as the Buddha suggests, to take our own best advice.


Other people aren't "wrong"--they just don't know the whole story.


That's up to each of us, ourselves.


Namaste.      

UPDATE: TORTUGA AND TONGLEN

So, after six weeks of : renting a car to go to work; sending tons of e-mails and phone calls to BOTH insurance companies; dealing with my agent(s), AllState agent(s), appraisers; two garages; local cops; state RMV; investigators; everybody's secretary and Office Manager; my parents; my familia; I finally get the call: your car is ready to be picked up.


I return the rental car and find out that though AllState will pay for the rental it will NOT pay for the additional insurance I was forced to take out on said rental.  After my life being sucked dry by this charade for over a month and a half, I find that I am out one thousand and fifty-four dollars, which I can only (possibly) get back IF I take the guy that hit my parked car to court--and then he sues his insurers and I get to face the AllState lawyers in small claims. (Is this worth a summer of dealing with paperwork and "the Court System"...I am so tired...)


I chalk this entire scenario to "karma". Breathe. Happy I have enough money saved to cover this final "cost" and don't have to borrow anything from anyone. Happy to have some breathing room to enjoy summer and swimming and kayaking and writing...


Two days later: I come outside to a car that has spent its first night "home" leaking gas all over the driveway from a broken gas line.


(Karma?????????????????????????????????????????????????) Nope. Just a broken line under an old car...


I take it into the station. The guy in the garage is looking stressed and exhausted, too. He recognizes me from a year ago when they fixed my brake lines...he also recognizes the "old Subaru".  He tells me he can't get to it until tomorrow and I am not going to be driving it home, today...he offers me a ride to Maple Street.


He knows my brother, the cop. I feel safe. I ask him why he's the only one in the garage?  He sighs and I hear the entire story of a newly sobered up employee who has been missing for two days, now, and how everyone expects the guy fell off the wagon and has "disappeared", yet again.  I hear about wanting to support the dude but needing to hire someone reliable and not being able to "hold the job opened", but also worried about his friend and feeling helpless.


We talk about sobriety. We discuss the high incidence of addiction in Gardner. We both agree: thank God it isn't  heroin...I talk about that first year of getting clean and sober and how almost everyone "falls off the wagon" the first time...


The guy talks about his two young daughters--loves of his life--his worries about them growing up and "being girls"; talks about his wife; his job; drives me right up to my door. (Lots of strange men in the last six weeks giving me rides home...so weird this energy...) He promises to try and get the car done by tomorrow. Says it won't be over "a thousand"...Great. I shudder. He laughs. (I hope it is the kidding kind of laughter and not the "I've got a hooked fish" kind...)


Walk up to the front door as he leaves the scene and I suddenly realize: my housekey is still on the keychain with the car key.  Sigh.


I ring the doorbell.
I can hear the t.v. blasting loudly enough, in the livingroom, that it is totally audible on the front porch, with all the doors closed!  (At least the parental units are home...)


I ring the doorbell.


I hear the phone ring, inside, also audible from the porch.


I hear Mom yelling into the phone--some salesperson calling--Mom's less-than-patient-response.


I ring the doorbell.


I tap on the window, knowing they can't see me from inside.


I knock on the door.


I ring the doorbell.


Somewhere, from the bowels of the house, I hear Dad yelling to Mom about the doorbell.


I ring it, again.


This time, I hear his walker clicketyclickclicketyclick as he shuffles to the front door.


My greeting: "Where's your key? We couldn't tell if it was the front door or the back door bell or the phone or the t.v.!  Where's your key?"


I explain, moving quickly inside, headed for the aspirin bottle and the quiet of my bedroom, midday.


Mom: "So, why didn't you take the car back to the Body Shop?"
Me: "It has nothing to do with their work at the shop or the accident. It's just an old car and it's rusted on the bottom...even the mechanic said so. He will work on it, tomorrow."
Mom: "So, the insurance companies aren't going to award you "emotional damages" or anything?"
Me: "No. Just repairs on the car caused by the collision...and the immediate rental."
Mom: "That doesn't seem right..."


I sigh. Breathe. Head up the stairs.
No, it doesn't seem right at all.


Outside, it begins to rain, yet again.


(I realize: this would be a blessing in California.)  This isn't California.


Tortuga must last one more year. ( Whatever transportation spirits that reside around here, please take note.)  My finances will allow a newer, more dependable vehicle in another year. Right now, all I can do is keep the little green Subaru running, safely, and pray my "car karma" has finally evened out.


(You could have burst into flames, today.  You could have been stranded somewhere much farther out, no gas left. You could have been awarded five hundred dollars for the total write off of the car.)


I flop on the bed, next to the open window.
I fall asleep, still listening to the rain.

FINDING OUR OWN WAY

                     "Each of us finds our own way."
                                                                          Pema Chodron




Finding our own way is what is most terrifying.


Old institutions have always crumbled.
(We just don't believe they will in our own lifetimes.)
From the Ancients of all continents to the Catholic Church, right here and now, whatever we have clung to has always disappeared. Yet, there is something fundamental in the human being which continues to cling.


Pema Chodron, the Buddhist nun, relates a fable about humans being born as eagles--at first, noticing in the distance, how beautiful the horizon is--open and inviting. But over time, the nest begins to become our voluntary prison. It fills with "our stuff". We put on clothes and shoes and hats and collect ''stuff". Everything from new sneakers to sunglasses and I-phones weigh us down; altering our image--our true self--so much, that we forget who we really are. We forget we were born to fly.


Free falling is the first lesson. (Perhaps it is the most terrifying.)
To take that first leap into nothingness. To drop, unsure of what we really know or even how to use it...


No safety nets.


(The real deal...)


Letting go of what we've been programmed to accept, without question, is that free fall.
Willingness to step off, naked, over the lip of the nest, into The Unknown; to strip off "this is what your life should look like" and find out, once and for all, who we really are, who we were born to become. Not to accept that the only worthwhile existence is to remain trapped--no matter how familiar or entertaining or decorative the cage is. To risk all in becoming who we really are.


When my students graduated this past weekend, I listened to speeches that always say the same things: we are unique, we will make history notice us, we will always have each others' backs, we will never forget, we are a group of individuals the likes of which this school has never seen.


The faces were fresh but the sentiments could have been culled from my own yearbook, four decades earlier.  For these graduates, some of those words are true. (Surely the feelings are. No doubt.) But what I wanted to stand up and yell to them (and to their families in the bleachers) was that life will not see you in this way. History will not record you along those lines. You have not been given all of the truth. Much has been withheld from you for fear that you WILL learn to fly; that you WILL leave the nest--under your own power.


And then?  (What then?)


Perhaps, you will never return.
Or, upon returning, tell us something those of us still trapped do not want to hear. Or know. (Or have to live with...) How much safer to hide some of the harsher secrets...


In the final Lojong teachings,the student is instructed to walk the walk, even at the risk of losing one's life. (Jesus told His disciples much the same thing...interesting.) To walk that journey, you have to be willing to find the path that is your own. You have to leave the nest, falling freely, soaring above the ground to scout out a road to follow. Your road. (NOT the road of your ancestors nor your religious leaders nor your teachers.)


 Wowza.


It will feel, at times, like death. It will feel at times like gravity will grind you into the mud. It will feel at times like absolute loss and destruction. Yet, it's the only lasting way. No institution will save you. No pre-paid ticket will guarantee a free flight zone nor a secure landing strip. (You must risk everything.) This isn't about being a radical. Nor is it about protesting your parents' plans and dreams. It isn't about school or a job or marriage or politics or even your future success. It is about right now.  This moment.


It is about discovering your Authentic Self. Your absolute core being. (From every angle.) And how that self is connected to everything else.


"Risk it all to find it all."


That's what I wanted to yell.


No guarantees. (No matter what it looks like from the inside of the Nest.) No matter how great some of us look dressed up with all our shiny stuff and our puffed chests and bo-tox smiles. None of that really matters.


You have to risk it all to find your own way.


When you do, that's when you find everything.


Namaste. 

Tonglen and Car Accidents: a cautionary tale

How many times must I repeat this?  Since I was conscious, something awful has always happened around my birthday.  Even when I work extensively on creating positive energy, going slow, taking vitamins, filling out all forms and checking them twice, something awful happens around my birthday. I was almost convinced that this year, five days away from the doom-date, I would emerge unscathed.


Hahahahhahahhahaha. The Universe laughed.




Sitting in my Subaru, waiting for an early take-out dinner at the local Eastern Fusion Palace to be wrapped to go, I notice a burly young guy come out of the AT and T outlet and climb into his monster truck, which is parked right next to me. He peels out way too fast and BOOM!!!!! The front end of Tortuga-the-sea-green Subaru is spread underneath his giant back tires, glass and wires and everything fiberglass strewn in all directions!  I lean on the horn, which still works, and he stops, dead.


I am so furious!  No airbags have gone off.  I have no whiplash or pain, but the entire front of my beloved little New England car is squashed and smashed on the macadam!  And the guy cooly hops out of his gargantuan cab, phone in hand, full of cool machismo, telling me "Be calm, Lady. I got insurance. It will pay ..."


"Hey!" I am not screaming but I am yelling at him, yeah! Damn straight!  "I was parked! I didn't even have the motor running!  YOU were parked, right next to me! It's broad daylight!  No other cars on either side of us, man!  How could you NOT SEE me?????"


"I don't know, be cool, Lady. I told you, the insurance will pay. I'm not gonna give you any trouble!" He holds up his hands and gives me "The Big Man Look".


"Yeah they'll pay! You hit a parked car with the driver in the driver's seat! You took off my front end! You smeared it all over the lot! Anyway, it's not about money!  I'm a teacher! This is the week of final exams!  I have a prom to chaperone next week!  I have two elderly parents at home and now I've got no wheels!  No wheels!  How am I going to get to work?  How am I going to get home?  Pick up prescriptions? Groceries?  My car is full of stuff for my Senior graduates! I've got kayak paddles and backpacks and hiking stuff in the back of the car!  It doesn't look like  much, but it's a good car and look at it! What am I going to do, now?  I don't even  have a ride home!"  I feel myself shaking.
I think of the blood pressure meds I didn't pick up this morning, believing I'd do it before heading back to Maple Street...


"I'm sorry, just, well, you want me to call a cop?" The guy drops a little of the attitude.


"Yeah, I want a cop, here, and your insurance stuff, Man. Get it out."  As usual, I am not afraid. I am not tearful. I am pissed off. I am furious. I feel taller than this guy. My mind knows, if he wants to drive off, I've got no witnesses who stayed around. I don't have his license number. I can't fight him. If he ever had a weapon, I'd be dead, but I don't care. I'm just so angry that this has stopped my entire life, point blank, and all I was doing was sitting in a  large, uncrowded parking lot in the middle of the afternoon after a long day at school.


I keep thinking about what I had planned to do when I got home: eat supper (the take out); take a shower; work on my formal evaluation for the Vice Principal, which is due, now; work on my five year professional plan for my Mentor, which is due, tomorrow; correct about fifty final essay tests for my two senior classes and my two sophomore classes; pick up my meds; iron clothes for tomorrow; pay bills...then BOOM!  Nothing will get done, now. Now, all that exists is this mess and all the details that will consume my life until I get the car back...


The guy comes over to where I'm pulling my backpack and papers out of the front seat. A folder of student reports blows open and suddenly there is a snowstorm of essays heading towards Stop and Shop.  This white-haired guy chases them down and brings them to me, shaking his head.


"I didn't think you'd feel like chasing down papers right now," he smiles kindly and hands me my work.


I thank him.


Accident-Man mumbles that he's got the cops on his cell.
"Tell them that we need someone right away!" I yell to him.
He communicates with the cops: "Sorry, I can't hear you, the lady is screaming at me--"
"I am NOT screaming!" I yell back, sure I am not screaming. Screaming is fear. Screaming is a strained throat and a high pitched voice and a victim's song.  I am yelling. Strongly. Hoping the cop hears me and sends a patrol vehicle soon. 


The Accident-Man shuts down his cell and turns to me.  I see he's not White in a very White town. I see a "Baby on Board" yellow placard in the back window of his blue monster truck. I see his pressed clothes and the line up of his hair and his beat up hands. He's a thirty-something Dad, I'm sure.
This truck is his pride and joy. He is probably scared and decidedly embarrassed.


I take a breath.
(The more I look at the car the more I feel sick. No one ever needs an accident, but to have it happen while I'm sitting, parked, during the three busiest weeks of my first year at Gardner High, when I need my wheels all day, every day and if I have to ask for any more favors or special consideration I may not have a job...they have fired people for less. I am the class advisor. I have to make these events. I have to show up, on time, every day, and stay late, almost every day. No way can I call in to deal with paper work and police reports and body shops and insurance agents... )


Accident-Man looks at me, still clutching his beat-up phone.


I take another breath.
"Man, look, you have a baby, right?  How would you feel if your wife and baby were in your truck and someone hit them?  You'd be yelling, too, right?  Can you understand why I'm upset? If your truck was wrecked, how would you get to work?  You get why I'm mad and not 'chill'?"


He looks down at his feet. "Sorry."


I lean against the bent hood of my Subaru.  He leans against the monster wheel of his truck.


"AT and T made a mistake on my bill and wiped out my bank account, today. I was upset when I came out..." he trails off, not looking at me.


I breathe again.  (I get it. I've had these troubles, too, running to make a payment on something, keeping the lights on or the phone connected or even the rent. Killing myself to get there on time to keep my life intact and honorable and worth living--and having some glitch in a system which doesn't care. ...or not enough money till the next paycheck to cover the extra service fees...going away depressed, frustrated, furious at a system that rewards nothing but the almighty dollar ...I've been there.)


"AT and T sucks...I changed servers because of that, " I honestly tell him.


"Yeah...like, I've got nothing in my bank account right now because of THEIR MISTAKE!  I guess I wasn't looking when I pulled out...sorry."  Accident -Man sounds human for the first time.


I hold out my hand. "What's your name?"


"Mario," he says, giving me his.


"I'm Karen."


"Want me to try the cops, again?" he asks, sheepishly.


"Yeah, please. I've got to get home," I say, sighing, wondering who I should call to come and pick me up.


The cop arrives, sirens blaring. People begin pointing at us in the parking lot. I can see it now, plastered on The Gardner News...another embarrassment for this aging teacher.


The cop is nice. Cool. Almost too cool. Gives me that "Man-talking-to-older-woman-about-a -car" attitude which I don't  need right now. I know that fiber glass and these Japanese cars come apart easily...I also know that the entire front end and God knows what else under it has been wrecked and with this older model, might not be able to be repaired...and I won't get enough money to buy newer wheels...then what? But the cop files the report, takes photos, calls a tow truck and when I ask for a ride home, agrees. In the back of the cop car.


He takes Mario's info and mine, calls it in.


When I get in front of the house, my neighbors are gawking. The cop unlocks the back seat and helps me to the door--as if  he picked me up, drunk, at the prom. "Have a good night--"then he catches himself.


"Have a better night!"  He laughs as he roars off.


Five days before my birthday.


I pray the awful thing has already happened.


(Tonight, I will practice tonglen: for Mario.  For myself.)

MISHAPS INTO THE BODHI: or Easter Fights

"Transform all mishaps into the path of bodhi."
                                                                            Lojong phrase




Even if:
all holiday plans are abandoned, argued, bantered, shouted down, re-enforced, demolished, demanded, controlled, played-out, played-with, encoded, inflated, deflated, destroyed, restored, polished, tarnished, coughed up, smoothed over and obliterated.


Even if:
there are favorites; there are sides; there are politics and bad weather; food is over-priced; over-stuffed; over-sauced; over-cooked; under-appreciated; left-over; left-out; left-behind.


Even if:
dishes are unwrapped; taken down; taken out; washed and re-washed; polished; put back; set out;
singled out; separated; unmatched; missing- in- action; taken home to the wrong abode; brought back from the wrong abode; cracked or broken; replaced; remembered; resented: re-defined.


Even if:
there is little to be said of anything deep; there is little discussion beyond illness and the need for discipline in a child's childhood; little conversation about ISIS or drought in the West or Passover or more snow predicted or climatic conclusions or the lack of a single dyed Easter egg.


Even if:
there is chaos and confusion and hurt and long-held pain; demented uncles and elderly parents still controlling what they can; or guilt served with the honey-glazed ham and sweet potatoes.


Even if:
there is harm done.


Suffering is the first teaching of the new Buddha. (First thing he said to folks after the Bodhi tree.)
Suffering is human existence. We hurt each other. We are hurt. Close as we can get to each other, we cause pain. Know its truth. Know how to see this. Without adornment or blame. Acceptance of all sides. Causer and recipient. Doer and the done.


Understanding: I am both in pain and causer of pain allows me to change this pain. Transform it. Breathe it in and let it go. See the dance coming and don't step aside. Waltz through it. Embrace it. Forgive it and myself and finish the dance. Learn a new step in the dance. Get to the other side.


No interruptions. (Even if...)


It is all information to aid us in awakening.

Instead of blaming: understanding. Because we, also, have been in that chaotic place, (that fear den), so many times.


    

LIBERATE YOURSELF

"Liberate yourself by examining and analyzing."
                                                                            Lojong Slogan


There is a wonderful feeling of relief in the moments when we realize that Buddhism offers a way out of self-disgust; panic; self-loathing; guilt; and even self-hate. (So many of these states of being are used by organized religions of all stripes and many governments, world-wide, to control human beings! Don't take my word, do your research on this point...) What a wonderful shrugging off of years of accumulated sadness (or powerlessness)! And, it is available to all, regardless of financial status or spiritual belief. (Just ponder that one!)  Talk about true revolution.

How can this be so?
 
Well, taking a very close look at what the slogan is telling us: liberate  YOURSELF.  Use examination of your life (YOUR life) as the catalyst. Just stop, wherever you are, take a breath, sit down, breathe again. Let your life, in this second, come into focus.  Then, actually see YOURSELF as you move through this second.

Angry?  See yourself angry.  Jealous?  See yourself jealous.  Hurting?  See yourself in that pain.
Causing hurt to others?  See the actions, the words, the part you played in all of that stuff. Tired? Look at the exhaustion in your life, in your body, in your mind and spirit. Actually see it inside of YOURSELF.

At first, when I studied this slogan, it felt a bit like Catholic confession--visualizing all my past "sins" and transgressions--and the analysis was like beating myself over the head with remorse, guilt, the need for absolution.  However, the good news is that Buddhist philosophy and practice doesn't store much value in guilt. Guilt leads to self-loathing and ultimately, to self-hate. (If you hate yourself, how can you practice lovingkindness towards any other sentient being?)

The "way out" of this trap is to actually do the visualization of yourself (myself/ourselves) and then, just to "see". To unravel, examine, forgive (if necessary) and to just accept the whole enchilada. Even the ugly stuff. Especially the ugly stuff. (Being gentle and loving and kind to oneself, even as we admit our follies; our failures.) It is the first step to turning everything around.

In her work, START WHERE YOU ARE, Pema Chodron writes:
 "Instead of using it as ammunition against yourself, you can lighten up and realize it's information that you need in order to keep your heart open."

I'm in this adventure to learn how to keep my heart open.

Namaste.