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Monet's Water Lilies

7/31/2016

"The path is not about perfecting the self. The path is about deepening compassion for the self."
-Jack Kornfield

Our limited views imprison us. We paint our reality from a palette of color preferences. We live in a large eclectic museum of artists. But if we stand admiring one painting for a lifetime, ours and ours alone, we'll miss multiple opportunities to appreciate other points of view.

I have the great fortune of sharing my life with a husband who constantly challenges my point of view. Our disagreements used to scare me. I was afraid that the cracks in our conversation would form canyons, where the distance would be insurmountable. Any words spoken would not be heard by the other, but echoed back as an internal reverberation of fear.

Hello, hello, hello!!! Is anyone there, there, there???

On a recent hike on the Palomarin Trail in Bolinas, my husband and I stopped for lunch at a clearing off the path. The clearing overlooked a lake dotted at the surface with several lotus blossoms. The scene was perfect, as if I were witnessing a real life version of Monet's Water Lilies.

Until I spotted some Starbucks paper napkins several feet away from us. Suddenly, the perfect painting changed into a picture I no longer wanted to see. Mother Earth's sacred ground was polluted by a careless, ignorant being (or group) who had no regard for anyone but him/herself. I sent some nasty words out to these nameless, faceless beings that was the exact opposite of metta.

My husband watched my self-righteous performance in silence. After some time, he painted some alternative possibilities for me. What if the wind blew the napkins out of a hiker's open back pack? What if a group was having a picnic like we were now, and one of the group members got too close to the edge of the cliff, slipped and fell, while others left in a hurry to find help? What if someone intentionally littered because they had been hardened by life circumstances, and no longer considered anyone or anything sacred? The possibilities were endless.

I looked away from the lotus blossoms. Though I preferred a serene scene sans scattered Starbucks paper napkins, I was beginning to open to other still life possibilities. Once we finished eating and packed up our belongings, I walked over to each napkin and picked it up. I wasn’t the perfect environmentalist or Buddhist practitioner, but a humble being who was given the opportunity to deepen compassion for herself and the being(s) who left the napkins behind.

Our limited views imprison us. We paint our reality from a palette of color preferences. We live in a large eclectic museum of artists. If we walk from one painting to another, we’ll have multiple opportunities to appreciate other points of view. We might even visualize the napkins as a possible part of Monet’s Water Lilies, and get curious about the folks who left them behind.

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From Anxiety to Acceptance

7/9/2016

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Sunlit Wooded Path, Summer Green Trees by Carlin Blahnik

“You’re being overly anticipatory.”

His words sting, a familiar wound I’ve felt before. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to feel this. I don’t want to begin Saturday morning this way. I want to go back to riding the magic carpet high of peaceful communication.

But a faint whisper reminds me of my commitment to inner freedom.

For some time, there is a tug of war between thoughts, emotions, and body sensations.

He doesn’t know me.
He doesn’t understand me.
He doesn’t love me.

Now hold on and wait a minute, Kaveri. Don’t you think that last thought is stretching it a bit? I get that you’re feeling angry and hurt. But do you really believe he doesn’t love you?

Planning my words carefully as if I’m at the UN trying to draft a peace treaty between two warring nations, I rehearse what I might say.

You have a right to your opinion, but I know who I am. I’m a mother who cares about packing a healthy snack containing protein and carbs for our daughter’s Middle School Bike Skills training camp.

I realize that statement still sounds pretty self-righteous. I’m not ready yet to feel the long face or heavy heart. Maybe silence is best for now. I kiss our daughter good bye but turn away from him as he is leaving to ride with her.

On a hike at Foothill Park, I listen to Tara Brach’s talk on Stress and Everyday Nirvana Part 2. I surrender to the body sensations as thoughts and feelings fade into the background. With the wilderness and a wild emotional heart as witness, I contemplate Tara’s words.

A problem can be a portal to freedom.

I place hands on my belly and heart and hear the voice again caught on a summer breeze. The first time I heard these words was in meditation a few days ago.

drum beating heart and twisted gut
a hand on each, listening
till there is nothing left to say
but I’m here and I love you

****

Father and daughter return from Middle School Bike Skills training camp in the early afternoon. Trusting the body sensations more than thoughts/feelings to be my portal to freedom:

He does know me.
He does understand me.
He does love me.

What if his statement, “You’re being overly anticipatory.”, was just a statement? What if it reflected more of his preference in packing snacks for the bike training camp? What if he wasn’t saying that I am one big giant blob of anxiety - bones nourished by the blood of a primitive biology? Who could I be?

I could be a woman transformed by these practices of mindfulness and heartfulness, moving from anxiety to acceptance under a canopy of guardian trees.

A problem can be a portal to freedom.

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One

7/4/2016

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Something is shifting in me. It’s as if a new island is forming from volcanic eruptions of suffering. I’m birthing something beautiful from past mistakes, and it feels really good. It’s the realization and allowing of autonomy. I can only best describe it through the vignettes below.

***

She’s here today for her annual physical checkup. In addition to our discussion about certain labs, procedures, vaccinations, and radiographic studies that are due for her age and health risk factors, she tells me she suffers from headaches. My questions are like shovels excavating for the deepest treasure, the deepest truth I can find in her. I learn that she wants to be found, and feels buried alive by the weight of her son’s illness, her husband’s habits, her daughter’s transition to college. She’d like to take a breath of fresh air for herself, but isn’t sure how to anymore.

We begin to discuss therapy for her. She quickly deflects the idea as if it, too is just another means to an end she does not want to reach. She’s tired of therapy, therapy for her son, her husband. And where the hell have all these sessions gotten her? More sedated, stoic, set in her ways. I’m listening carefully. Instead of pushing my own agenda on her like others have, I ask what self-care might look like for her. After a thoughtful, introspective pause, there’s a spark in her stony black eyes. “Yoga”, she whispers. “I used to love yoga.”

In our last few minutes together, we explore where she’s been buried for some time, and how she might dig her way out. My questions might be shovels, but I am confident that her first breath of fresh air, her head and neck stretching like a giraffe to reach the highest leaves and buds of trees close to Heaven, will be accomplished by the grace of her own effort.

***

Each day I ask if she has remembered to wear deodorant, wash her face, wear sunscreen, etc. The annoyance and hurt in her voice is almost always predictable – a slingshot aimed at fighting back with a prolonged, “YEEEESSSS, MOOOOMMMM” to make sure it reaches and hits my heart hard. Ouch! I’m only reminding you because I care. But what’s really underneath all this nagging and need for control?

As a tween myself, I was uber conscious about physical appearances, including dress and hygiene. When you’re the ethnic minority in middle school and junior high, it’s easy to be the target of racial slurs and meaningless taunts for silly things. I mean, did it really matter that my clothes came from National or Kmart when other girls’ clothes were tattooed in designer Guess or Esprit?

What if someone notices my daughter’s BO, the zits on her face, or other spots on her skin? Will she still be liked, invited to birthday parties, and feel like school is just another home away from home? Will her ‘friends’ be the perch supporting her as she flies to new heights of adolescent discovery - academic, social, and extracurricular geographies she has never explored before?

One evening I come home from work as my daughter steps out of the shower. Wrapped in a soft pink terrycloth robe with dripping hair the scent of a spring garden, she runs to give me a sweet and snug hug. I can hardly believe that this tall and slender ten-and-a-half-year-old girl grew from the chubby, wide-eyed infant I held in my arms not so long ago. I don’t ask about her swimming play date with a friend: whether she remembered to pack her goggles, lather her body in sunscreen prior to taking a dip in the pool, or even if she washed her face with the acne facial cleanser I bought for her months back.

We simply stand there for a few moments locked in a tender embrace as I envision the future. A young bird flies and falls, rising again and again to understand what the phrase The sky’s the limit means to her. Feathers ruffled from the potential dangers of falling, her mother watches from the nest. But she trusts Mother Earth and Father Sky to hold her daughter as they have held her all these years. "May the wind always be at your back and the sun upon your face. And may the wings of destiny carry you aloft to dance with the stars." (George Jung)

***

opening a hand
releasing expectations, plans
ideas of who i am

silence fills the space
whispering my name
through waves of breath

voices of all beings
echo through this heart
till only one remains

Relationships are becoming less about what I want from others and more about listening for who they really are. When my need to control or manipulate them is motivated by anxiety, it shows. I’m tense; I say and do things I don’t mean; my hands are clenched fists disconnecting from others.

Opening a hand, releasing the tight grip of expectations, plans, ideas of who I am and what I should get, silence fills the space in meditation, whispering my name through waves of breath. I hear the voice of all beings echo through my heart, the need to be heard, the yearning for autonomy, till only one remains.
One clear, collective voice of Love.

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July 4: What Does Freedom Mean to You?

7/1/2016

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On July 4th, we celebrate the independence of thirteen American colonies from British rule. Families and friends gather for picnics, barbecues, and a chance to watch colorful fireworks light up the night sky.

On a spiritual level, I’m curious about what independence means for you. Where do you feel stuck, trapped in your life? Where would you like to have more freedom, more ease, more peace? Is it in a relationship with a partner, child, or parent? Does it involve a work situation or friendship? Or would you like more freedom in the ways you relate to yourself? Maybe it’s a combination of all of three.

Once you have identified the place(s) where you feel stuck, you might be overwhelmed. There’s a reason why we keep our skeletons, the deepest parts of ourselves hidden in subconscious closets. It’s so much easier to watch TV, lose ourselves in the internet or stay busy, get drunk or high, go shopping or indulge in food. If you have, please don’t judge yourself. We all have engaged in one spiritual bypass technique or another. Sometimes it’s wise to take a break from healing, especially if energy levels are low and you feel you only have so much gas to get by. How you rest is key.

You didn’t learn to walk, swim, or ride a bicycle overnight, so don’t expect this freedom to manifest itself overnight, either. It’s why we call it spiritual ‘practice’. Now that you know what you most want to heal, the next step is to set an intention. For me, an intention is like a sincere prayer. What do you want God, the Universe, or the Great Mother to know? What are you ready to manifest more of in your life? Be careful how you frame this intention, this sacred prayer. We often ask for others to change, for situations to be different. If only so and so wouldn’t do that thing they do. If only work or my health or politics or the weather were different. Then I’d be at peace. Are you feeling more physically, emotionally, and spiritually tense as you contemplate this intention? If so, you may need to look within.

(Note: Introspection does not equal passivity. If you are a victim of clear injustice or violence, please take the necessary steps to remove yourself from this situation as best as you can. Enlist the support of others to help you make this change.)

Let these intentions sit like unlit sparklers in the palms of your precious hands. On the night of July 4, may you connect with a reverence for all life, including yours. As you light them, may the sparks of light represent moments of insight. You, like every living being on this planet, deserve to be happy, well, safe, peaceful, and at ease. May the sparks dissipate into darkness as dawn stages a new sunrise of understanding. “Be the change you wish to see in this world.” (Gandhi)

How and when you decide to be this change is all up to you. I trust you will find your way.

Namaste.

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Monet's Water Lilies

From Anxiety to Acceptance

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July 4: What Does Freedom Mean to You?

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