I’m scared, terrified of these feelings falling like autumn leaves at random beyond my control – littering conversations, disturbing sleep, ruining peaceful meditations. They remind me of a season fourteen years ago when a beautiful baby girl was born, when a mother went underground to follow the roots of her family tree.

So much doubt. So many judgements. What’s wrong with you, Kaveri. Why can’t you get your shit together? Are we really back here after thirteen years of practice? Haven’t we progressed, even a little?

Perimenopause. Unpredictable periods. Emotional storms. Is the external weather trying to taunt me, or mirror my internal state with compassion and wisdom? I’m different now. Not better. Not worse. Just different.

The autumn leaves are not dirty or unwelcome. Yes, they are dying. They aren’t the same as shiny spring leaves green with new life, abundant with chlorophyllic possibility. Still, they are wise messengers decomposing into earth to fertilize the underground roots of this family tree.

When I pushed forward, I was whirled about. When I stayed in place, I sank. And so I crossed over the flood without pushing forward, without staying in place. (SN 1.1 Ogha-tarana Sutta: Crossing over the Flood)

Fourteen years ago when I pushed forward, I was whirled about. When I tried to cross the flood of emotions without acknowledgment, the resistance reinforced their presence. Please listen to us. Stop pushing forward, pushing us away. We want you to know something.

When I stayed in place, I sank, believing the emotions without understanding the need beneath them. I blamed others for their insensitivity and misunderstanding. I judged myself for being one depressed and anxious mess.

And so I cross through the flood by bowing to the emotions, listening to the sensations in my body and kind whispers in my ear. Thank you for listening with honesty, compassion, patience, and trust, for recognizing the creative growth potential in us, for honoring the season’s rhythm of change.

And so I cross through the flood without staying in place, understanding the need for embodied loving presence and connection to myself for wise and loving connection with others.

Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come , come. (Rumi)

I have broken my vows a thousand times. I have judged and harmed in ways that seem unforgivable. As a wanderer, worshiper, and lover of leaving this moment because the past still haunts me and the future is unpredictable, it doesn’t matter.

This heart-mind is no longer a caravan of despair. I will come, even if I have broken my vows a thousand times. Perimenopause is not punishment for the past or the promise of a perilous future. It’s a chance in this very moment to begin again.
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Come, yet again, come, come.

Unanswered, Unfinished

Hip rotations in one direction and then the other
The sacrum suspended between two sides
What will promote healing and connection?
What will strain the sacroiliac ligaments
Gluteal muscles contracting in anger, fear, sadness
Delusion, disappointment, desperation?
Will forgiveness be enough
To bridge the gap of misunderstanding 
Support spinal alignment
To walk away from the past
Give spacious birth to this moment 
Trust in the blessings and benevolence
Of a bright future?
 
Questions unanswered, the poem unfinished 
And I still practice
Through electric shocks and tears
Sounding the Lion’s Roar from within
This heart is wide open
This heart is ready for anything 
 
 
Dori Langevin invites the Kairos House Sangha to engage in gentle hip rotations during Qigong practice. My hips sway from one side to the other, allowing the sacrum suspended between two iliac bones to trace concentric circles in the horizontal plane. After fourteen years, the sacroiliac ligaments and gluteal muscles release tightly held questions and emotions.

This moment is never enough. There’s always something wrong with others, myself, the time, the place, the weather. I’m even trouble shooting a future I cannot control. But maybe it’s better than here, now, this.

I sense that the lower left back and gluteal muscles send electric shocks through the body from time to time as a wake-up call. “This is your life, your family, your work. Will you keep focusing on what’s missing, or relax into who and what is here?”

Will forgiveness be enough to bridge the gap of misunderstanding with my family, myself? Will it support spinal alignment to walk away from past patterns? Will it give spacious birth to this moment, and stop comparing it with a contracted, unconscious birth fourteen years ago? Will it trust in the blessings and benevolence of a bright future?

I’m more comfortable with leaving this post untitled, the questions unanswered, the poem unfinished than I’ve ever been before. Even through the electric shocks and tears of discomfort, I know I will never stop practicing, sounding the Lion’s Roar from within. As long as this heart is open, it is ready for anything.

 
The Heart’s Radiance

Open a window, let the air in
The shadow side to the heart 
Has been closed for too long
Bow to the cold weather 
Invite the chill in
You can still bundle up
Removing one layer at a time
When you are warm enough
And can feel the sun
 
Practicing forgiveness and gratitude through a body scan in seated meditation posture, I notice tight sensations in the midback. It’s asking me to stay a while and listen.

I’m not fond of the cold weather here in Spokane. It’s mostly cloudy with a mix of rain and sun, not warm enough to open a window and let the air in. But the midback, the shadow side of the heart has been closed for too long.

What if I metaphorically bowed to the cold weather and invited the chill in? I always have the choice to bundle up, removing one layer at a time when I am warm enough to feel the sun.
 
*****
 
It’s cold outside, but I bundle up and commit to each morning walking meditation period. I’m not going anywhere, getting anything done, which is frustrating. This isn’t even ‘real’ exercise! But I stay, noticing footsteps over soft pine needles and damp earth, the sounds of birdcall or the bell, subtle variations of cold sensations, and many thoughts with a common theme, “Why the hell am I out here when it’s so warm indoors?”.

One day while wearily pacing back and forth approximately ten to twelve feet between two ponderosa trunks like a caged animal, I pause to feel the sun peeking through the clouds and winking down at me. “I’m still here. You can’t always see or feel me, but I’m there.”

Later in the day during a brisk walk after lunch, the sun’s radiance is palpable. I remove my raincoat, gloves, and unzip a fleece. It’s easier to shed the outer layers of vulnerability when it’s warm outside, and much harder when it’s cold inside the heart.

May the heart’s furnace be fueled with helpful resources, not only for my own repletion, but for the repletion of others, all beings, this Earth.
 
 
Going Home
 
Watching the sunset from the plane back to SFO:
 
a scoop of rainbow 
sherbet ice cream 
melting over the horizon
good night sweet sun!
now a red streak
between day and night
wakefulness and dreams 
the taste of something solid 
soaked up by a sponge moon
sentinel stars keeping watch
while the sun sleeps
till it rises as honeycomb
and the sweetness begins again

Bathe all your worries in the sweet syrup breath of metta
Nothing can ever taste bitter this way
Nothing can harm a you that isn’t there 
Citta knows exactly what is needed
Citta can show you the way 
I’ve lived here for so long
And failed to recognize this shelter
The strong structural support
The ability to frame all experience in love 
May the heart hold beauty and terror
In the same loving space
May this be the house of awakening 


There are so many dizzying definitions of happiness. Buy this, go here, have this kind of family and home.

When you get quiet, when the neon lights and the buzz of false advertising fall away, what’s left? Who do you trust? What can you rely on? What brings a lasting sense of contentment, peace? What helps you face the full spectrum of life’s ruthless and benevolent promises?

These questions are not meant to taunt you, but to encourage rest and reflection into this very moment. If you lost everyone and everything you loved, where would you seek shelter?

I’ve chased happiness like an elusive butterfly, believing I could get close enough, freeze-frame it and own it forever. The pursuit of enlightenment has been no different. THIS is the teacher, retreat, program, and/or practice that holds the key to the locked door inside me. Someone else has it. Not me.

What does it mean to take our seats, not just on the metaphoric chair or cushion, but in our lives, with each other, all beings, the Earth, in this moment? Let’s start here. Here is where all the action is, where all the healing takes place.

May you find that key and unlock a little more each day from the inside out.  May fear/outcome-based expectations become heart-based aspirations.

Maybe it’s not enlightenment or bust.

Maybe it’s enlightenment and trying again.

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.
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Marriage Mandala

I’ve waited my whole life for you
to say the right words,
to woo me with poetry
and an instrument to play
the song in my heart
that I sing to myself
when the world misunderstands.

How could I have missed
the gentle intimacy,
the drunken look in your eyes,
palms pressed in Namaste
to the sacred feminine flame,
the humble bow to your consort
in all her many moods?

Let’s circle the fire like we did long ago-
no one leading, no one following,
the earth bearing witness,
the air surrounding us offering
space to move as we must,
tears of frustration and joy marking
each brave step into the unknown.
 
Just when you think your partner isn’t looking, listening, or understanding, look again. Listen. Patiently wait for understanding based on cellular memories of gratitude. Memories of disappointment and deficiency will just weigh you down and induce amnesia for the sacred.

There is no such thing as a fairytale relationship, romantic or not. The grass is always greener in a movie, a book, or someone else’s story. For me, the magic occurs inside the heart mandala when all the moving parts invite me to look, to listen, and be patient for understanding.

I don’t always like the entangled pattern I see. The elements of earth, air, fire and water ask me to wait, to feel their presence internally and externally till the pattern alchemically transforms into something I recognize but didn’t trust before due to past conditioning.

The emerging pattern cuts through greed, hatred, and delusion with fierce compassion, gentle wisdom. All moving parts begin to settle.

The elements of wind and fire are strong in me. How do I not blow past and burn everything in the way? How do I allow the neurotic wind in this breath to be carried to the place it needs to be, rather than striving to get there? How can this passionate fire for practice burn with wise discernment?
​
Intuition, lead the way…