Blog Archives

Mosaics

1/18/2016

With shoulders slumped and tears streaming down her cheeks, she sat in her dorm room. Her boyfriend sat close, feeling waves of emotion sweep through her as Kenny Loggin’s “Conviction of the Heart” was playing in the background. It was one of her favorite songs, but her heart felt numb. What did it mean to live her life with conviction of the heart?

*****

Extended family is visiting. She is now forty-two years old, proud of herself and her practice. Things that used to irritate the hell out of her before, chafing skin and drawing blood, are now mild abrasions. She tries to bring kind speech and wise
understanding to each and every interaction. She celebrates the victories.

But she hasn’t perfected herself or the practice. Towards the end of each day when she is most likely to be tired and irritable, she notices the cracks in kindness. A misplaced word, a sidelong stare, turning away from what she does not want to face. What happened to Mrs. Mindfulness, Heart Lady?

One morning, she steps on the elliptical machine and decides to listen to “Conviction of the Heart”. As the words and music flow through her, she realizes that perfection is only a prerequisite for pain, for deep misunderstanding. Giving love with conviction of the heart was never about living up to an ideal or painting a flawless picture. It’s a mosaic created from bits and pieces of emotional experiences. Sometimes the fractured scenes are delightful, filled with inspiration and meaning. At other times they are distressing, heart and gut wrenching.

Can I as the Observer appreciate both as fine works of art? Can I as Loving Presence understand everything that goes into creating each mosaic?

*****

With relaxed shoulders and a small smile on her face, she types this post. Her boyfriend come husband still likes her more when she embodies Mrs. Mindfulness, Heart Lady. Her task at hand is to love all versions of herself. Then she has a small chance of loving all versions of others, observing both mosaics with equal reverence.

Edvard Munch "Scream" Mosaic Art Reproduction

0 Comments

Crossing a Bridge

1/9/2016

0 Comments

Image courtesy Stockazoo

Ultraviolet pink and purple clouds bear witness to my Metta prayers as I cross Dumbarton Bridge.

May I be patient with their process.
May I forgive their humanness.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit impatient and judgmental towards certain friends and patients. I see the way their thoughts and life patterns entangle them and sincerely wish for their freedom. The knots are constrictive, cutting off the delivery of vital oxygen and nutrients. Clipped wings hinder the possibility of a panoramic perspective.

But am I free? Are my assumptions about their situation accurate? Am I myself seeing the total picture clearly? Though I want them to be free, is it my place to control the speed or how they attain freedom?

My New Year’s intention is to continue cultivating loving presence for myself and others. I’m realizing now that a key ingredient to loving presence is clarity. I don’t need to save others. I’m not a superhero. Saving them would imply that they are somehow deficient, broken.

What would it mean to approach others without a fixed agenda of how things should go, to listen to their process with patience, to forgive their humanness for feeling lost, to forgive my own impatience and judgements?

Ultraviolet pink and purple clouds bear witness to my Metta prayers as I cross Dumbarton Bridge, as I cross over to a new plane of understanding. A quiet, spacious, loving presence reminds me that I don’t have to say or do so much to wish for their freedom, their wellbeing. I simply need to bear witness to my own stuck places so I can bear witness to them.

May I be patient with my process.
May I forgive my humanness.

0 Comments

Windmills, Winter Gales, Rivers, and Equanimity

1/1/2016

0 Comments

Day 1

O, to be a windmill planted firmly on the hillside
Arms turning peacefully in the wind
No resistance, no question about its place
No need to prove what it stands for

Driving along the 580 on the way to Yosemite, I’m struck by their quiet, yet purposeful presence. Windmills planted firmly on the hillside. Their arms are turning peacefully in the wind without resistance. There is no question about their place, their purpose. They know what they are meant to do.

I wonder if I am drawn to them for a particular reason. After some miles have passed, I hear a word aching to be whispered from within – equanimity. I know the windmills are trying to tell me something about equanimity in relationships.

Relationships, especially close ones are a mixture of joy and jabs, discovery and disappointment. What does it mean to be equanimous in relation to others? I believe it’s a balance between feeling arrogant and deficient. When I am self-righteous, I push others away with my shield of superiority. The armor is so thick, that we can’t hear each other or feel the beating of each other’s hearts. When I’m feeling deficient, a beggar asks others to fill her cup with a hole in it. No interaction can ever quench my thirst to be known completely.

I think of myself as a windmill, legs planted firmly wherever I stand. At first I raise my arms in self-defense, then soften them to be turned by the wind into a warm embrace. I don’t need to question or defend my place. I don’t need to prove what I stand for. A peaceful, purposeful presence will guide me.

Day 4

The Universe has a strange way of knowing exactly what I need before I even know myself. A winter gale blows through our cabin this morning, depositing frosted tears on my eyelashes, chiseling angry lines on my husband’s granite face, stunning my daughter to silence. Though the concept of equanimity feels distant, I sense a trace of it within.

Arms are initially raised in self-defense, self-righteousness, then softened and turned by the wind into a warm embrace, for myself and then for them. A memorable New Year’s Eve ritual helps to warm us from the chill of the experience. We sit in a circle and take turns sharing what we appreciate most about each other, as well as what we would like to improve. Communication is a common theme for improvement.

Day 6

As we drive home along the Merced River, I bow to Mother Nature and her wise teachings. I am also a river determined to meet her source, to know her True Nature. Stormy thoughts and feelings threaten to freeze me into old patterns, old ways of being. But I will never surrender to them. May a peaceful, purposeful presence guide me in the new year. May this presence guide us all.

0 Comments

Mosaics

Crossing a Bridge

Windmills, Winter Gales, Rivers, and Equanimity

Author

Archives

Categories