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Evidence

8/30/2015

What evidence do you have that your spiritual practice is working? We often look for perfection, for absolutes in practice. I should be mindful 24/7. I shouldn’t have said that. I should be present more often. Why is fear (or any other afflictive emotion) coming up again?

On Saturday I drove to Spirit Rock for a daylong on poetry and the Dharma. I left later than planned, and also found myself stuck in unexpected traffic. Taking a deep breath, I checked Google maps for an alternate route. As I left the jam, I felt the tension in my body dissipate, only to return when I tried to get on the same freeway a little further north and found the onramp blocked.

What the hell do I do now???

You know the feeling of fight-flight-freeze that arises in you like a volcano ready to explode at any given moment. Do I blame freeway construction? Do I blame myself for not checking traffic conditions and leaving earlier? Do I stay stuck in this storyline without an option to change it?

I noticed all of these thought options pounding against my skull with such violent force, begging for release. Then, I heard another voice.

Pull over, Kaveri. Just stop. Trust me on this one.

So I pulled over. I still felt the tension, but I also felt the breath of life flowing through me like summer rain after a prolonged drought. I knew how to find another route, to reach my destination and feel more at ease. It might take more time, but I sensed I would be OK.

*****

During the morning meditation, I felt a poem gestating within, aching to be born from the stillness. After the sound of the bell, I scribbled a few lines in my journal, confident they would take me somewhere.

As the day progressed, we read several poems on joy, sorrow, and grief together. The words in my journal felt like puny, flickering stars that paled in comparison to the light of these full moon poems. Who was I? I wasn’t a real poet. So what if I had a moment of insight on my drive here!

*****

I still say and do things that are unskillful. My mind still swings back and forth like a monkey on a trapeze clamoring for attention, anything to take me away from here. Fear still follows me everywhere like a shadow till I am willing to give it a name.

Maybe evidence that any given spiritual practice is working can’t be found in perfection but in vulnerability. Our tender hearts open as best as they can to experience. We reach out for support, reach in for a deep anchor of trust that will tether our sailing gypsy hearts to this moment.

Trust

It isn’t something you hold in your hand
a polished stone you skip across
the surface of Lake Doubt
to reach the other side

Trust is an open door
an invisible threshold you cross
without a groom to carry you
without a spare key

It’s holding your heart in stillness
as it fibrillates wildly with fear
until it syncs to the sound
of your breath and remembers

I am exactly where I need to be
I am safe in this understanding

(Note: The poem above isn’t the one I scribbled in my journal, but one that emerged from the stillness of falling asleep and waking up the next morning in the harbor of my bed:)

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Enough

8/27/2015

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Grace's Art

I woke up this morning with a sudden restlessness. After twenty minutes of meditation, the urge to move was so great that I had to stand and walk into the office. I felt a strong desire to empty my closet and drawers of things I no longer needed. Taking a few deep breaths, I let the restlessness settle as I felt my body ground back into earth and this moment.

First things first. Have breakfast, Kaveri. Take your daughter to school. Come home and get on the elliptical. Then practice some yoga. OK, now you are ready.

I carefully chose a few things from my closet and drawers I had been meaning to drop off at Goodwill or give away. A strange peace settled over me like a leaf resting on a bed of water yielding to its currents without distress. What was this contentment all about?

My daughter asked me to read Where the Mountain Meets the Moon by Grace Lin a few months ago. I kept putting it off for more ‘important’ things, but finally borrowed her Kindle a few days ago and finished the book today.

It’s a story about a girl named Minly who embarks on an adventure to change her family’s fortune. She begins the journey with one idea of good fortune, and ends the journey forever changed by the colorful characters she meets along the way, as well as her notion of good fortune. The story is actually several stories tied together by an invisible thread of kindness, weaving the tales into a warm quilt of love and what really matters.

I’ve often wondered what separates people who are truly happy from those who are discontent. Though there are many factors, I believe a big factor is a sense of enoughness, both internally and externally. I am enough. I have enough. My family, my colleagues, my friends are enough.

This doesn’t mean we can’t aspire for more, but I think it all depends on how you define more. Is it more money, physical objects, popularity? Or is it more heart?

When I’m gone, I know I can’t take my material possessions, my identity, my loved ones, even these words with me. But I do believe the love I have felt in relationships, the beauty, blessings, and benevolence bestowed upon me in this lifetime, will all somehow be stitched into my soul. In my next life (if there is one:), I will have the choice to listen to a child very much like my own daughter or not.

Mama, read this book!

The Universe offers multiple opportunities to drink. Are we satisfied, or will we continue to drink salt water, perpetually thirsty for more?

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Why does your heart beat?

8/21/2015

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Heart Beat by Laurie Pace

Why does your heart beat?

Some might answer for a lover, a child, or a pet. Others might say it's for a profession or creative passion. Some might think it's a silly question and respond matter of factly, "It's just what the heart does!" Still others might answer embarrassed and confused, "I don't know..."

It might even be a combination of the above.

Reflecting on my trip to Alaska, Victoria, and Seattle, I thought I would be most affected by abundant wildlife and nature's grandeur.

I was wrong.

While Mother Nature and her beloved children were breathtaking and certainly sights to behold, they didn't strum my heartstrings as much as the stories of two women I met on the trip.

The first woman was our tour guide on a bus tour of Denali National Park. At 21, she moved to Alaska and immediately fell in love. Well into her 50's now, she talked about her passions with such conviction of the heart, that I could physically feel her spirit.

The second woman was a former champion of the Iditarod trail sled dog race held in Alaska each year. She retired to the state of Montana, and recently moved back to Alaska. She now helps train and manage Alaskan huskies for another former Iditarod champion who offers tours at his home for folks who would like to visit with the huskies, their pups, and to learn more about the Iditarod experience.

What struck me most about this woman was the animation in her body and eyes as she talked about the race. When it came time for questions, the audience asked a lot about technicalities. The burning question in my heart was this.

"What do you love most about the race?"

Her eyes became misty. I sensed I had plucked a heartstring or two. Her answer was simple.

"The dogs," she whispered. "The way you care for the dogs, and they care for you."

We think that we have forever. That spectacular dress is still hanging in the back of your closet just waiting for the perfect occasion to dress her. Your creative plans are gathering dust on your desk or in your drawer because you just aren't ready. You've been planning to say or do something with someone who is meaningful to you, but the time is never right.

If not now, then when?

I've heard Tara Brach share in her podcasts that the biggest regret most people die with is the unlived life. Not doing what they really wanted to do. Not saying what they really wanted to say. Tara offers a reflection that is quite powerful.

What if you only had a month to live? A week? A day? An hour? What would matter most?

The other day I finished watching A Little Chaos. In one particularly scene, Andrè is lighting multiple candles in the darkness waiting for Sabine to come down and see him. It's the perfect metaphor for his need to awaken a dying passion both physically and figuratively.

Who or what will light candles to illuminate the dark corners of your heart? Why does your heart beat?

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Unpacking

8/13/2015

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I wake up from a dream. In the dream, my daughter has a social engagement on a Friday evening at school. Fridays are my busiest day at work and the next day I am on call with weekend clinic. Should I ask my husband or mom to take her? Should I take her myself?

The anxiety, guilt, and self-blame from old wounds, old thought patterns bleed into my morning on vacation. Unlike other times, I'm not disturbed by this dream. I sense that it's meaning will be revealed like the full moon from a veil of subconscious clouds if I try to bring a kind and curious attention. The kind of attention I'd bring to my daughter when she is hurting or a patient I really care about who is suffering.

I know I don't stand a chance in understanding the dream unless I am willing to be totally honest about my feelings. While my husband and daughter are sleeping soundly, I sit on my meditation cushion and yoga mat patiently waiting for the feelings to arise.

I'm anxious about the extra days we have in Denali and travel time to Anchorage before we catch a flight to Seattle where we will spend the last few days of vacation. Do we really need these extra days? We could have used them at the end of the trip to arrive home a day early. More time to unpack, do laundry, catch up with mail, work, fit in some personal time before the work week and a new school year begins. I feel guilty that I want to shave some days off the middle of our vacation for a smoother transition home. I blame myself for not fully opening to the beauty and slow pace of life around me (something I crave when I'm busy!).

I breathe with everything I am now consciously holding in my lap and heart. There is no judgement, no questions of how, when, or why, only silence as the full moon gives way to a rising sun, a fireball of fierce love and understanding. The morning light urges me to stand and begin some yoga asanas to circulate this heart infused understanding to every part of my body. My dear body, this mobile home away from home revealing all I need to know in any given moment.

As I finish writing this, my belly softens. Shallow breaths give way to slow, deep, rhythmic ones. If I were to invite another dream, I would dream that the transition from vacation back home is a gentle one. Laundry is washed, mail is sorted, work and school are addressed in a relaxed manner. Most importantly, I unpack myself slowly. My thoughts and emotions are lifted delicately like fine crystal from a velvet case and polished with pure presence.

May I help others unpack their emotional baggage with the same presence.

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The Path of Peace

8/7/2015

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Nestled in the heart of Resurrection Valley just outside of Seward, my family spent a few nights at Seward Windsong Lodge in Alaska. When we first arrived the mountains were gorgeous, backlit by a brilliant sun and skirted with colorful wildflowers. It was as if they were calling, “Be happy. Be free!”

The same mountains looked ominous the day we departed for Denali National Park. Dressed in drab gray and white clouds looking solemn and sad, they seemed to be saying, “We’re not in the mood today.”

External circumstances often dictate our emotional barometer. If the weather is nice, we are more likely to be happy. Imperfect surroundings might negatively impact our mental disposition. But we can’t always control the outside world. The weather changes. Each person writes their own version of the script in our daily dramas. Despite cosmetic enhancements and athletic development, our bodies are not immune to aging and illness.

Is there a way to hold these two pictures of majestic and cloud covered mountains with equal fondness in our hearts? I’m not suggesting you celebrate when receiving tragic news or experiencing discomfort of any kind. It’s quite normal and healthy for a wide range of emotions to arise in response, such as anger, sadness, fear, guilt, blame, and sometimes even apathy.

For me, it helps to remember that the majestic mountains towering over Resurrection Valley are blanketed by snow most months the year. Some are even carved by glacial ice, waiting patiently to thaw and expose the full extent of their beauty in summer months and what they have learned from a harsh winter.

If you can surround any difficult experience with compassionate, gentle, patient, confident, and courageous awareness, it will transform in the alchemy of your heart. This doesn’t mean you will necessarily get your way. The tragedy might still proceed as planned. What changes is your relationship with it. The circumstance is no longer an intruder on your perfect life, but a wise teacher guiding you to freedom and unconditional love.

There is no timeline for this transformation. In my experience, it depends on how deep our screws for conditional wellbeing are grooved, how burdened we are by expected outcomes, how sincere our intentions are for meaningful healing to occur. You must know who and what you can rely on to cultivate this type of vast awareness capable of surrounding any experience with a kind and curious attention.

It doesn’t matter where you are in your search. Chances are if you are reading this post, there is a part of you wanting to hold the majestic and cloud covered mountains with equal fondness. One simple intention is enough to travel the path of peace.

May your surroundings invite you to hold all experiences with equal fondness, to transform them in the alchemy of your heart. May any intruder become a wise teacher. May the path of peace be a journey, not a destination.

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Evidence

Enough

Why does your heart beat?

Unpacking

The Path of Peace

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