​​Woke up with a pounding headache
Stayed up late last night
Come sit on the zafu
With everything as it is
Thoughts chasing the future
Replaying the past
It’s always better somewhere else
Or is it
Belly tensing against today
What do I need to do
What will the weather be like
Should have stayed asleep
For a better meditation
Waking up later
To practice again
It’s ok sweetheart
Welcome home
Just as you are
Finding the breath as ally
Soothing the body
Gathering swirling thoughts
Collecting them as mementos
For the heart to hold
Getting quiet
Sitting like a mountain
Unmoved by the weather outside
Breathing in oxygen
Breathing out carbon dioxide
Symbiosis with trees
Appreciation
Breathing in his suffering
Breathing out compassion
Breathing in her struggles
Breathing out support
Breathing in their confusion
Breathing out understanding
Breathing in the joy
Of this practice
Breathing out the wish
May others experience this too

While clearing out the closet and bookshelf at home, I notice many Buddhist, self-awareness, and spiritual books accumulated over the years. Wow! How many times have I gone back to reread the treasure chest of wisdom already written? How often does the heart-mind feel unsettled, wondering who or what will bring me one step closer to nibanna (nirvana)?
 
An inquiry from a recent conversation with DoriMa returns. What if you never sat another retreat, listened to another Dhamma (Dharma) talk, or took another course? Would it be enough?
 
After completing 2 years of the DPP6 program through Spirit Rock, sadness and uncertainty continue the eulogy. Hey, wait a minute? Who died? I’m not ready to let go of the teachers, the ancestral altar, the Sangha, the family that was always temporary as all things are.
 
Post retreat, I feel shaky. A familiar voice and way of being shouts, restless and impatient. C’mon, search the internet for all possible retreats out there, Amazon for all those books, email for invitations to DPP6 Revival events! 
 
And there is another energy emerging within, one that isn’t as familiar as fear and doubt. Remember your Buddha Nature, and reflect the Buddha Nature in others. Let go. Trust in the heart to hold this. This energy releases past karmic chords and locks the door to the future, imbuing the present moment with vivid clarity. Why would I choose to be anywhere else? This is the wisdom of no escape. This is the gift of faith.
 
I see the Paramis popping up like popcorn in loved ones at home, patients at work, even drivers who cut me off. When conversations and situations feel challenging, faith bridges the gap between suffering and joy (TDO). It expands awareness to include body, breath, others, and a radiant heart that has enough fuel to love what is. Not because what’s happening is pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral, but because there is a fullness of heart to meet it without needing things to be different.
 
This faith doesn’t pout like an impatient, bored child on a road trip inquiring several times if we are there yet. It’s the patient parent transforming the journey into an adventure, inviting the child into presence so many creative different ways.
 
I have no idea what the future will bring. Because tomorrow is never guaranteed, there is so much gratitude to the elements that have shaped this heart-mind over a lifetime (lifetimes if you believe in kamma, karma). Whether I read this book, do that retreat, join a particular group, or class, I know a seed was planted long ago. She is 46 (or 46,000) years old. Maybe her rate of growth was never dependent on perfect conditions - high quality nutrients, fertile soil, an ideal balance of rain and sun, or expert arborists.
 
Maybe all she ever needed was faith.
​

Meditative, Qigong Healing
 
Sitting upright, supported by Earth
Warm breath of compassion
Forgiveness, wisdom
Releasing holding patterns of dis-ease
Permanence, a self in control
Clear recognition only gentleness heals


Then standing, feeling the exchange
Of energy between this body
And its surroundings
Invisibly connected to all life
The possibility of universal benevolence
Always a choice despite chaotic patterns
 
The last week and a half were challenging. From viral gastroenteritis to a cough and cold, from asthma like symptoms to worsening muscle strains, from irritation, impatience, disappointment, and exhaustion, it felt like illness was taking up permanent residence in the body. There was so much self-identification with dis-ease states and the mental formations they invoked. There was also a frantic rush to swat the emergence of each new symptom with a medication as if it were an annoying fly that would never go away. Killing it was the only choice.

​Or was it?

As I start to regain some mental clarity and physical strength, it feels important to reflect on what created more suffering, and what eased the suffering. (The word choice of suffering is very personal. If it rubs you the wrong way because you may have a heavier, incurable illness or stress that feels more significant than what I am sharing, feel free to substitute suffering with another word.) Identifying with any symptom, dis-ease or mind state was painful. Trying to overcome it with wholesome mind states like kindness, compassion, even joy was also deceptive, because I wasn’t allowing true feelings like irritation, impatience, and disappointment to throw big tantrums. I wasn’t allowing the fear to be felt, the dark cloud of doubt to be seen and known. The choice to reach for certain medications for relief was wholesome, but there was a subtle aggression against the body for misbehaving and falling apart. The belief in permanence of it all was so strong, that the urge to control the situation felt paramount.

When I chose to feel the cough and compromised breathing with gentle compassion, surrendered to supine meditation posture and gravity, released a known timeline for healing, and reached out to others for loving, healing energy, something changed. There was less identification with an invincible or dysfunctional, in control or chaotic, mindful or mindless, compassionate or critical being. Most days there was a certain percentage of each one.

We live as if everything is black and white, a dualistic mentality that does not allow for shades of gray or degrees of uncertainty. We are healthy or sick, balanced or crazy, paying attention or clueless, kind or vengeful. Is it possible most of us might just live in between the two extremes, always trying to build a reliable house on one side so as not to fall into the abyss between two cliffs of ego?

The need to know, to have things planned and figured out is strong in me. It’s a survival mechanism based on causes and conditions. Now there is recognition, compassion, forgiveness, wisdom to cushion each fall into the abyss of becoming.

The karma of now always offers two choices, suffering and the end of suffering. Robert Frost wrote that two roads diverged in a yellow wood. If you are anything like me, you might see trails in the wood well-trodden in the past from deeply ingrained patterns. There aren’t just two roads, but many paths.
​
Through meditation, Qigong, wise friends, writing, or whatever your support systems might be, may you feel connected to all life, the possibility of universal benevolence always a choice despite chaotic patterns.

Dear Piriformis Muscles,
 
I hear the burning call of anger
The quivering fear with each step
Disappointment and impatience asking
Where do we go from here?
 
I’m sorry I mistrusted you
Left you all alone
When you needed me most
Needed someone to understand
 
I’m here for you
For as long as the healing takes
Here to hold you, support you
Grateful for your special part
 
In keeping this body whole
 
For the last month, I’ve heard the burning call of anger, the quivering fear with each step, disappointment and impatience asking, “Where do we go from here?”.

Eleven years of mindfulness and compassion practices weren’t enough. I needed help. “Help me understand what I’ve forgotten, what I need to know now!”

Who was I calling out to, and why wasn’t self-compassion working?

As the piriformis muscles continued to burn and ache with each step, I turned to supportive family, wise friends, and healers who might help me remember. This is what I discovered.

Honesty. I can’t heal what I can’t feel. I’m so used to having a plan, knowing the answer, using spiritual practice to bypass what’s asking for direct attention here and now. Why feel if I know what will heal? The problem with this logic is that I can’t possibly know what will heal, until I’m honest about the anger, fear, disappointment, and impatience present. Until I’m really willing to listen to them, let them be as they are, and show me what is standing behind them. They are not roadblocks to compassion, but doorways.

This is what I’m feeling right now. It’s OK. It’s not bad or wrong. There’s space for these feelings.
 
Compassion. Compassion is the softest thing I know that cushions the hard edges of reality. It’s what I often use to shield my heart against the extra arrows of self-judgement. It’s easier to practice compassion for someone else who is suffering, and feels selfish, self-indulgence to include myself in the circle of compassion. Over the years, self-compassion became the parent, partner, best friend I was seeking, the ally who never let me down.

 I care about this pain. Others have bodies that break down and disappoint them, too. It’s not my fault.
 
Patience. I’m still surprised by how often I use self-compassion to bargain with life. Look, I’m being gentle and kind. Why is the burning, aching sensation still here? Why do I still feel stiff like the Tin Man? Isn’t self-compassion the oil needed to lubricate this stiffness so I can move pain free? Patience asks me to wait, to let the answers come in geological time. Sometimes, I’m not sure I can wait that long, but am always surprised and humbled by the outcome when I surrender to the elements that shape each and every experience.

This won’t last forever. Everything changes. May I be patient with the impatience.
 
Gratitude. When physical, emotional pain strike, it’s like a large, dark stain on a beautiful dress, a hole in a perfect picture, the uninvited guest to a party. Help! Bring my old life back! The negativity bias deletes all memories of these piriformis muscles supporting the birth of a beautiful child almost thirteen years ago, meditation and yoga postures that have offered profound joy and peace, hikes that have brought me closer to the womb of the Divine Mother than ever before.
​
Thank you for carrying this body, for supporting each brave step as best as you can into the future unknown.
 
Trust. If old age, sickness and death are inevitable who or what can I trust? Why even try to celebrate the 10,000 joys if sorrow is just around the corner, waiting to shadow the light? I’m not sure there is a simple answer to these questions. For me, it’s a partner who wonders what I am trying to prove, recommending I take Advil and rest the body that is being pushed to continue the elliptical and yoga stretches despite obvious signals of discomfort. It’s a teenage daughter who offers glimpses of care and concern by gently patting my behind despite raging hormones and peer conditioning. It’s a mother who cooks and offers to do the dishes when she sees me wincing in pain. It’s a friend who recommends a gentle chiropractor because she knows what I want in a healer. It’s other friends who offer up compassionate listening presence like the sweetest dessert when I have forgotten how to offer it to myself. It’s a chiropractor who alleviates my fears by reminding me of the body’s intuitive capacity to heal itself. It’s Qigong helping to move stagnant energy and encourage flow. It’s wild turkeys on a hike reminding me that life still goes on, a dim sun with so much potential to burn through the fog with love, the Great Mother promising to always be there no matter how this body ages or whether I have direct access to Her.
 
The people, places in my life will come and go, but there will always be someone, something to remind me of what matters most.
 
May this reflection inspire all beings everywhere without exception. May we learn to stay with our own experience, so we can support others on their healing journey.

​water
flowing,
         falling, 
freezing, 
m e l t i n g,
taking on the shape 
of what's needed
to heal
 
Today I was listening to the sound of water falling in the shower.  It was hypnotizing, melodic, soothing.  When I am in flow with life, it's easy to be kind to others and myself.

But when things feel hard, I freeze. It takes more conscious effort to be kind. It's easier to become reactive, adding more wind and fire to an already volatile situation. And these elements don't help thaw my self-righteous, hurt identity.

Leslie Booker's talk on Embodied Wisdom reminds me how all thoughts and emotions have elemental manifestations in the body. When the force of these elements are strong, unskillful actions can burn and blame others or myself to obtain quick results and relieve discomfort.

In contrast, skillful action is motivated by patience, curiosity, openness, and a desire to foster connection. But I cannot feel supported by the ground beneath me or flow with my surroundings without learning how to tame the fire and wind energies within.

I must take refuge in someone or something larger than myself (meditation, nature, journaling, talking to a trusted teacher or friend). When the wildfire is contained in the heart's afterglow, my frozen self begins to melt. Tears fall, and wise action is no longer a foreign concept, but embodied by an earth child who has grown into the avatar of Kaveri, a woman flowing to meet her source, to know her True Nature. There is a sincere wish for all beings to be free.

May our elemental natures take on the shape of what's needed to heal. May we embody skillful action in ways that are most meaningful to us.

footprints carved in sand
erased on demand
where are you going
the tides ask

the slate wiped clear
we all start here
elemental
to understand 

Walking along the North Shore of Kauai at Black Pot Beach, I notice my footprints trying to leave a trace of who I am.

"Where are you going?", the tides ask.  "I'm headed towards my first Dedicated Practitioner's retreat!" I respond with enthusiasm and certainty.

What does that even mean?
 
I used to think this name, this body, this incarnation was fixed, static.  This is who Kaveri is.  This is what Kaveri's body is supposed to do.  An unanticipated cold and sciatica flare have humbled me.

As I read the egreetings, I am introduced to different names, places, occupations, ages, gender identities and sexual orientations of spiritual family members who will undoubtedly shape the next few years of my life. Who am I in the midst of all these beings?  How would I like to introduce myself?  Who are you all in between names, titles, words?

As waves wipe the slate clear, may i empty this mind of preconceived notions.  We all start here in this moment, together.  May our footsteps dissolve into the elements, to touch alternate shores of understanding.

Thank you for beginning to tell me who you are.  May the unveiling also be an undoing of separate selves...