Temporarily & Unexpectedly Precious

My husband, Bill, and I recently spent a couple of weeks hiking in remote areas of southern Utah, a starkly beautiful, nearly silent ancient desert landscape almost entirely off the grid. The magnitude of the natural forces that continually shape and carve the multi-colored sandstone and slickrock landscape is hard to comprehend, the sheer power of wind, water, erosion and time. 

On one hike we stood under a 165 million year old massive sandstone natural bridge. Unspeakably and profoundly small in comparison, we were awestruck at just how short a time we’re here in this life, that we’re just guests passing through.

After a few days of acclimating to the altitude, sleeping on the ground, convincing ourselves that the backpacking food was really delicious and being generally grimy, we set out on what would be a particularly fabulous day. The sky was a patchwork of cerulean blue and low-lying white billowy clouds, and the temperature was mild with a light breeze to keep us cool.  

It was a long hike, about 11 miles, and we were in no hurry. The trail was both challenging and comfortable, included sand and dirt, required climbing up, down and around big boulders, through a short slot canyon and across fields of fragrant sage brush amid the explosion of  desert wildflowers at the peak of the springtime bloom; yellow, pink, white, purple, red and orange. Really a perfect day and we were relishing it.

It was our last day before going back to town to load up on groceries, check in with our families and head out into the next remote area. Towards the end of that perfect day I had a peculiar feeling that the next day we would get some bad news.  It came out of nowhere. And when I told Bill about it, he rolled his eyes. It was a fleeting thought, and I let pass as quickly as it came.

While traveling the next morning, we turned on our phones and they both lit up with plenty of voice and text messages, not so unusual for being away for a week. But the messages were indeed bad news, the kind of news that changed our bliss to sadness in a moment. It brought us back to the true nature of our lives, the true nature of all of our lives. 

Everything changes. Life is difficult for everyone. And things happen because other things happen. It’s not personal, it just happens. And it’s really true that without experiencing sorrow, we cannot understand joy, or without the light, there’d be no dark, and pleasure and pain rub up against each other constantly. Life includes everything.

I recently heard a story about two elderly women living their last days in assisted living facilities. Both had lost their ability to speak with the exception of three words. One woman had two words, and the other had one. The words were temporarily, unexpectedly and precious. What a great description of our trip and our lives. What if we choose to live our lives knowing how temporarily and unexpectedly precious this life truly is? I think it could change everything.

Sipapu Bridge, Natural Bridges National Monument, Utah

Let Peace Come to You

I know I said I wouldn't post anything until the end of May, but I came across these beautiful meditation instructions and want to pass them along. They come from Sujato, a well-loved Buddhist monk and teacher from Australia.

When you meditate, just relax.

Don't try to control your mind.

Don't try to stop it going here and there.

Just be peaceful.

Don't watch your breath. Just breathe.

Be at peace when your mind is still. Be at peace when your mind is wandering.

Don't judge one state as better than the other. It is just how the mind is.

Let mindfulness settle down with the breath.

As you stop judging, stop trying, and stop controlling, peace will come to you.

Welcome it.

Ethics in Action

This is the last post until the end of May. If you get hungry for a little mindfulness, check out the archives. Every post from the last year is available anytime. Today’s post is adapted from a previous one.  I wish you a wonderful month.

The thought manifests as the word
The word manifests as the deed
The deed develops into habit
And the habit hardens into character
So watch the thought and its ways with care
And let it spring from love
Born out of concern for all beings

This is one of my favorite pieces of wisdom from the Buddha because I think it’s really true. I know that when my mind thinks caring and kind thoughts, my speech and actions will likely follow suit. I feel clear and at ease. Or if my mind is caught in contention and my thoughts aren’t so kind or caring, I hope I’ll have enough awareness to keep from acting them out and have the restraint to keep my mouth shut.

In the classical Buddhist teachings of the Noble Eightfold Path, Wise or Right Action are those actions that are rooted in harmlessness. The Buddha gives specific guidelines in the form of precepts, a code of ethical conduct. Really, they aren’t so specific to Buddhism; they’re simply the moral, skillful and harmless way of living. You’ll recognize them.

1.      Abstain from taking life; don’t kill

2.      Abstain from taking anything that has not been freely given; don’t steal

3.      Abstain from the misuse of sexuality

4.      Abstain from using harmful or false speech; don’t lie

5.      Abstain from the use of intoxicants to the degree that the mind becomes clouded and causes heedlessness

At first glance, these precepts seem quite obvious, but in actuality they may be more difficult to carry out. 

How far do we take not killing? What about the ants carrying aphids to the artichoke plants or string beans in the garden? What about that magazine on the table in the waiting room at the dentist’s office that has an article you’d like to read? And how do we express our sexuality and in what environments? How about the time we said something in public that was told to us in confidence and caused a friend humiliation? And, the consequences of drinking too much or using other intoxicants are well-known.

Our actions really do have consequences, whether in the immediate or somewhere down the line. This is the law of karma. In fact, karma translates as action. 

I remember a difficult time in my life many years ago when I was struggling with an unhealthy relationship, doing everything I could to make it work. It took me quite a while to see that nearly every encounter I had brought me pain, seemingly endless pain. It was like sitting in a chair with a broken leg. Each time I sat in that chair, I fell on the ground and injured my tailbone.

The Buddha taught that our happiness and unhappiness are dependent upon our own actions, not on anyone else’s wishes for us. This is what it means to be the heir to our own karma. The truth that we really can and do directly influence our lives through our own actions is a profoundly liberating statement. When our motivations and intentions come from harmlessness and goodwill, we are likely to act skillfully and wisely.

I find that when I really pay attention, I am my own best guide.

“When I do good, I feel good. When I do bad, I feel bad. That is my religion.” 

                                                                      Abraham Lincoln

Internal Disarmament

Spring is in full bloom in northern California. The rhododendrons, azaleas, viburnum and flowering cherry trees are bursting with flowers. It’s gorgeous.

I spent the morning rowing on Humboldt Bay with two dear friends in perfect conditions; flat water, no wind, sun shining and so much birdlife. Even the seals were curiously poking their heads up alongside our boats to check us out. Mornings like this are full of connection and belonging. They’re the threads that weave and bind us to ourselves, to our families and friends, and to our communities and the natural world. It’s the stuff of spiritual practice.

In our meditation groups, we show up week after week to sit together, to practice together. None of us could do this without the other. Our practice depends on it. We could actually say that our lives depend on it, because they do. I depend on my weekly groups as one of the core supports for my life. 

Whatever our practice is, whether it’s in a formal setting, out in nature, reading a book, listening to music, talking with a friend, making a meal, it feeds our spirits and we can’t do it alone. We might we think we can, but for practice to really flourish, we need each other.

Each week in class our meditations include both mindfulness/insight practice as well as metta, the practice of intentionally inclining the mind and heart towards goodwill and kindness. But they’re really not separate practices.  Mindfulness is inherently kind, and being kind is by nature mindful. 

I don’t think we can be kind without being mindful. It just doesn't work because the intention is ultimately the same; to settle the mind, open the heart, and cultivate a soft resilience that allows us to be engaged in our lives skillfully and wisely without rancor or contention. In fact, the Dalai Lama talks about these practices as “the process of internal disarmament.”

Mindfulness and kindness are intimately and inextricably linked, and the outcome is a clear mind and a loving heart. When we intentionally infuse our lives with kindness and awareness, our connections deepen and our sense of belonging grows.

A Rabbit Noticed My Condition

I was sad one day and went for a walk;

I sat in a field.

A rabbit noticed my condition and

Came near.

It often does not take more than that to help at times-

To just be close to creatures who

Are so full of knowing,

So full of love

That they don’t

-chat,

They just gaze with their

Marvelous understanding.

-St. John of the Cross

My Daughter Fell Off the Trampoline

My daughter Sarah had a beautiful butterfly stroke. She was eight years old and swam with fluidity, strength and desire. I loved sitting in the bleachers watching her swim, marveling at her ease and determination. Sometime that year, her father set up a trampoline in our back yard. The kids were overjoyed and I could feel disaster looming.

One day after school the kids were having a great time on tramp. I was in the kitchen making dinner when I heard Sarah scream. I looked out the window and saw her crumpled on the ground holding her arm and her brother running in to get me. She had fallen off of the trampoline not while jumping, but while trying to sit down on the edge and missing the rim with her outstretched arm, falling to the ground arm straight palm first. She’d fractured her elbow.

What does this have to do with mindfulness or meditation? Lately I’ve been thinking about what brought me to practice, why I practice and what sustains me. Sarah’s elbow fracture was really bad. It took lots and lots of physical therapy and many months to heal. It was the end of that beautiful butterfly stroke. 

One day Sarah and I were talking about what sort of activity she thought would be fun and she suggested yoga. Not long after that, she and I took an Introduction to Yoga class series where my meditation practice crept back into my life and really took hold.

So when I think about what brought me to practice, it was my husband buying the trampoline and my daughter falling off of it. I can’t say that I’m grateful for the trampoline accident. We got rid of it not long after, but I am grateful to my daughter for choosing yoga and allowing me to go to class with her. 

I was lucky enough to have a yoga teacher who integrated meditation quite naturally into her teaching, and the same teacher for introducing me to a book written by Sylvia Boorstein, who is now one of my primary teachers and mentors.

Why I practice and what sustains me are two sides of the same coin and are mutually supportive. Mindfulness practice both in formal meditation and daily life help me live a kinder, more compassionate and wise life through cultivating clarity and patience. 

I don’t always get it right, but practice supports and sustains these intentions, and keeps me on track. And when I do get it right, I know why I practice. It really works.

What brought you to practice?

Why do you practice?

What sustains you?

Why do you read this blog?

“We know what is proper, especially in difficult situations, from the wisdom arising out of contemplation.”

           Confucius

Closet Cleaning

After last week’s discussion on the nature of thoughts and how they condition our moods, our emotions and our actions, I serendipitously came across this poem. It’s so funny how the right piece of wisdom can pop up just when we need it.

The mind is ever a tourist

Wanting to touch and buy

New things then throw them

Into an already full closet.

                              Hafiz

Does your mind ever feel like an already full closet? Mine does. And sometimes it feels like it’s full of clothes that don’t fit, worn out shoes, and piled up dust-covered junk on the top shelf that hasn’t moved in years. That’s how it feels when my mind is trying to accommodate way too much, with its insatiable propensity to think about, dream about, and figure out about.

And that’s the nature of the mind. It makes thoughts. Sometimes these thoughts fit and serve us well, sometimes it’s just clutter, and sometimes it’s like taking stuff out of the garbage that’s already been thoroughly processed and does not need to be recycled yet again.

I’m very grateful for meditation practice. It calms, sorts through, and clarifies my mind. Here’s a practice you might try when your mind feels too full and it’s hard to see one clear thought through to the next.

Wherever you are take a breath. Whether you’re in the car, in the line at the grocery store, on the phone with customer service because your flight’s just been cancelled, or sitting on your meditation cushion, take a breath. Really notice the in-breath and the out-breath; its length, its depth, let the breath be felt.

At the end of the out-breath get a sense of your feet, especially the bottoms of your feet. If you’re standing or sitting in a chair, see if you can feel them on the ground. If you’re sitting on your cushion, just get a sense of the soles of your feet. Imagine breathing in and out of your feet for the next minute.

You’ll notice that if you really stick with the breath, it instantly changes the mind’s focus and cuts whatever storyline it had going. The mind will not advance two storylines simultaneously. I find that re-directing the mind from the thought clutter to one simple palpable focus calms everything and lets me see more clearly.

Once I’ve settled, I like using an image of the full moon over the ocean at night resting on the horizon. I imagine standing on the beach while the moonlight shines towards me across the water. It reminds me of this poem.

Let my doing nothing

When I have nothing to do

Become untroubled in its depth

Of peace like the evening

In the seashore when the

Water is silent

                              Rabindranath Tagore

Thoughts are Just Thoughts

Recently in one of our sitting groups, we were talking about what we've individually found to be a benefit of mindfulness practice as well as what we've experienced as obstacles.

One man came in a few minutes late, gently apologized for the interruption, got himself situated on his cushion, and began to weep as he joined in the discussion. He was overwhelmed with relief and gratitude for just being able to show up at all. He shared that mindfulness in general, and meditation specifically allow him to be with the pain of the unexpected loss of a close relationship, his tender heart, his fear, anger and sadness in a way that also allow him to hold himself with a modicum of love and compassion through which he can feel a bit of ease and sometimes even some joy.

At the end of the sitting, he came up to me and said “You know, I just realized that all thoughts are neutral. It’s everything I do with them that cause the problems.” It was a beautiful moment. He experienced the profound insight into the link of pleasant-unpleasant-neutral thoughts and how they condition our emotions and actions. We talked about how in-between the awareness of a given thought and our response, there’s a space. And it’s in that space, often completely unnoticed or traversed in a nanosecond, we have great power and choice.

Sometimes I’m asked “why mindfulness, what’s the benefit?” Simply stated, mindfulness allows us to see what’s what with curiosity and acceptance. It is the practice of uncluttering and tidying up the mind. When we see what’s what, the volume is turned down on reactivity, we develop patience and resilience, and we have more access to our innately clear minds, our kind hearts and our discerning wisdom.

It’s important to recognize that mindfulness is not about becoming a better this or that. It’s about becoming fully aware of whatever is happening, whether we like it or not, whether it’s pleasant or painful, and being at ease even with difficultly. Difficult circumstances do not automatically mean despair or unhappiness. They mean difficult circumstances. Being at ease in the midst of difficulty is not fatalistic, giving up, or sticking one’s head in the sand, but rather it’s the solid rich fertile ground out of which positive change can occur. When we stop being in contention with our circumstances but recognize them as they are, we can make skillful deliberate choices about how to proceed. Mindfulness is the awareness of our direct experience stripped of inference and the stories we tell ourselves about what’s happening.

Using mindfulness to hone our awareness and sharpen our concentration for the purpose of becoming better at our jobs is fine, but I believe it is not the foundational intention of mindfulness. It is not to become a better soldier, a better teacher, a better grocer, a better nurse, a better politician, a better corporate executive. It is to become kinder, more compassionate and wise, and live a life that accommodates all of the joys and sorrows, the twists and turns that comprise being human without harming ourselves or anyone else. And in the process, we just might become better at our jobs, too.