Life supports us, gently turning our heads towards beauty when we are looking elsewhere. It also challenges us because it knows we are ready to rise to the occasion. Then why do we leave, looking for paradise somewhere else?

The urge to fight, flee, or freeze during difficult times is strong, biological, rehearsed from past experiences. Why stay if you're only going to get hurt? It helps to deepen the inquiry here. Is the threat real, or perceived? If perceived, do you have the physical, emotional, and spiritual support you need to stay?

Like many of you reading this, I have certain experiences I'd rather bypass. A patient with a laundry list of demands I don't have time to wash, dry, fold and iron. A tug of war conversation where I want to win and sustain minimal abrasions from the fight. A concern for a loved one or myself that feels like a nuclear threat rather than an opportunity for growth. Waking up from dreams that promote problems instead of peace.
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So why learn to stay? According to a positive psychology article, the benefits of mindfulness are many, including:

 
-Decreased stress and psychological distress in adults and employees
-Enhanced mental health and functioning
-Increased emotion regulation and self-control
-Decreased anxiety, depression, worry, and rumination
-Reduced incidence of problem drinking and symptoms associated with problem drinking
-Enhanced academic achievement in students, due to improved ability to focus and improved attention
-Improved social and relational skills
-Reduction in aggression and problem behaviors in children
-Reduced symptoms of burnout in employees
-Decrease in turnover and turnover intentions at work
-Enhanced job performance
-Increased ability to cope with bullying
-Enhanced resilience in children
 
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Though I appreciate the research, I trust my experience above all else. In addition to the benefits listed above, mindfulness has brought me to the greatest love I've ever known, the sweetest silence befriending me, freedom to fly beyond old stories and settings, a deep-rooted trust in where I'm standing.

 
I have this friend called Silence
always watching, always listening,
offering Kleenex to catch 
sniffles and tears
or high fives and knowing smiles
to celebrate awareness-
a kind om on the inbreath,
a grounded shanti on the outbreath,
meeting whatever comes 
with a deep bow,
trusting the messenger 
to heal me.
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I still get angry, sad, scared. I still have doubts. But I’m learning to stay, trusting the messenger to heal me.  Pema Chödrön writes, “This very moment is the perfect teacher, and, lucky for us, it’s with us wherever we are.”
 
May we all learn to stay. May we all have the support we need to trust this moment as the perfect teacher.

​Paused at the corner of Fremont and Decoto,
just missed the green light as a stranger
with a 12 x 12 piece of cardboard
catches the corner of my eye.
Need to get home to Seattle.
Any help welcome. $1-2
 
Can I trust that story?
 
With a sigh, I reach for my wallet,
opening a window that separates
an African American man
from a South Asian American woman,
one being suspicious and in a hurry,
the other patient and counting
on something deeper than a wallet.
 
The dollar bill slips easily
into square, callused hands
that won’t let go till i look up
into gentle, honest eyes –
obsidian hints of misunderstanding,
doors closing, a black body for sale
without the owner’s permission.
 
$1 isn’t enough.
 
The second bill provides an opportunity
to shake hands with holiness,
to feel the rough edges
of smooth, misguided perceptions,
to remember that we are all
just trying to make our way home.

​She shares some apprehension she’s feeling about an upcoming math test. I try to listen and let her know the final grade doesn’t matter. What matters most is her preparation for the test. If she comes back with a D, then it’s important to reflect on how this happened, and ultimately connect with us (her parents) for support and guidance.

Before I can complete my thoughts and communicate them with our daughter, my husband interrupts with his point of view. Suddenly, I lose track of where I am and what I’m doing, and feel waves of anger and hurt rise and fall in succession with no safe harbor to break against. It’s tempting to redirect this internal discomfort towards him, but I know from past experience it will only increase the height, force, and impact of the waves. I say nothing.

After the waves have surrendered to a gentle, rhythmic ebb and flow, curious and ready to connect with the shores of my husband’s experience (and share my own), I check in with him. There is a willingness to recede if he isn’t ready. The conversation flows well, and it feels as if two islands have made conscious contact through the wisdom in waves.

*****

​My dear friend from college and I are sharing a room at a hotel for a medical conference. She needs to leave early one morning to drive back home for her son’s soccer game. I’m awake before her alarm goes off in worried anticipation of how this will affect my sleep. It’s not her fault.

I immediately notice the jackhammer sensations in my temples and throbbing behind my eyes. I try to go back to sleep and manage to rest a few hours before getting up. But the damn tension headache is still there! Infusing the breath with kindness, respect, and forgiveness for a mind that generates anxious thoughts and joyful ones, I gently bathe the pounding sensations in loving awareness and even massage them physically. The pulsations are still there, but I am no longer angry, surprised, or disappointed.

*****

​Wise effort isn’t about having every conversation go well, or sleeping peacefully each night (though I still have a secret attachment to these outcomes:) It’s about weaving my wholesome intentions into the fabric of a larger universal design I cannot see. I need to trust that more and more of the design will be revealed when I am ready to learn and understand.
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Wise effort is also supported by intentionally taking in the good. Psychologist, author, and teacher Rick Hanson says, “In effect, the brain is like Velcro for negative experiences, but Teflon for positive ones. That shades “implicit memory” – your underlying expectations, beliefs, action strategies, and mood – in an increasingly negative direction.”  It’s important to balance the negativity bias with joy. Here are some of Dr. Hanson’s suggestions on how to do this.
 
May we weave our wise efforts into the universal fabric of life, detaching from outcome as best as we can. May we incline our minds towards wholesome states of being and loving one another.
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Thank you, Dear Ones in my life for being my greatest teachers!