​In meditation, it's possible to let the limiting sense of self settle, and allow the larger space of self to emerge.
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​Pain can be a pathway to suffering, or a poetic prescription for healing.

If you could only take a few people, a few things with you on a long trip, who or what would you take? I’m not talking about some exotic trip away from home, but the trip that you live every day from the moment your eyes open to the minute you fall asleep, and the cycle you repeat each day till you breathe your last breath.

What really matters to you? Who or what do you trust to carry you to the destination you seek? Do you travel with rigidity, considering the journey a failure if you don’t land where expected? Or do you course correct with wisdom and still love yourself when you miss the mark?

I’ve contemplated these questions for some time. Blown around by the eight worldly winds: pleasure/pain, gain/loss, success/failure, praise/blame, I’m tired of packing people and things along for the ride that shake things up unnecessarily without purpose.

 
El Capitan

sitting like a mountain
massive in this moment
no thoughts can blow me away

 
So I made a list of what supports faith in the journey, and what hinders it.
​

Supports to Faith:

- meditation (simple healing breath, heart-mind framing each moment in wisdom and care)
-pausing, waiting for what’s shaken up to settle so that speech, action can be more skillful
-Dhamma mentoring, classes, retreats, talks
-spiritual friends who mirror my True Nature
-family and patient challenges reminding me of Bodhisattva vow (on your way enlightenment, will you take us with you?)
-seeing how I’ve met challenging situations before, inspires trust that I can do it again
-Nature, unconditional loving Mother who nurtures calm, beauty, patience, wisdom, understanding, and trust
-writing strengthens the whispers of inner champion who takes inner critics’s concerns and transforms them into healing, wise words
-inspiration from music, movies, reading
-heart connections with family, friends, patients, clients, strangers
-embodied, grounded presence
-deleting Facebook account (cultivating contentment, simplicity over comparing mind, creating space in my calendar, my life)…ok, so I’m back on Facebook, and I need to remember aspiration over expectation
 
 
Hindrances to Faith:
 
-physical, emotional pain
-losing someone or something dear
-when something breaks, looks unappealing, increases aversion
-disagreement, disconnection with those I am close to
-prolonged exposure to bad news
-relying on astrology for good news, things to look forward to
-scattered, thinking presence
-alarm going off in the middle of a disturbing dream
-too many choices, not trusting the future
 
Practicing with these contemplations this month, I’ve discovered a few things. I can cultivate an unconditional love for this body-heart-mind, no matter how it is feeling. Despite a medical system that requires so many competing components for attention, I can connect with patient stories and not just make it to the end of the day disconnected and depleted. The allure of technology does not need to eclipse the possibility of contentment found in each moment.
 
And, I’m still a being doing her best to course correct with wisdom, still learning to love herself when she misses the mark. May the labyrinth of life allow for a natural spiraling in, then circumambulating out, never knowing if the center is reached and still carrying its intention with each step.
 

2020 has been a year of many things. I won’t pretend to know what it has been like for you. I have heard from many that they wish to have a different 2021. But what does this mean exactly? Less suffering with no COVID, police brutality, political division, physical, emotional, social, and economic stress? More joy in gathering with others to commemorate the beginning and ending of life (and everything in between), travel, return to school and work, seeing the smiles of others?

I also wish for a different 2021. And I’m paying attention to where I plant seeds of loving intentions- where I’m forcing something to grow/change, where I’m slowly letting go, patiently waiting for something to take root.

On December 24, I received my first COVID vaccine with a mixture of dread and hope. Dread that I’d be one of the few cases who developed a serious adverse reaction.  Hope that this would be a positive step in the fight against COVID. I’m relieved that the only nuisance was a sore arm for a few days, and I’m still diligently tracking symptoms through Vsafe.

I realize that there is still so much uncertainty. Will I build immunity to COVID? How long will the antibodies last? Am I safe to be around patients? Are they safe with me? What does this vaccine mean for us all heading into 2021?

Recognizing the fear and doubt in these questions, I’m aware that these thoughts, emotions and the physical manifestations of uncertainty within are not alone. There is also awe at the timeline and sound scientific data supporting the vaccine’s efficacy, gratitude for meaningful work, incredible colleagues, loving family, health, abundant food, shelter, and so much more.

Most of all, there is a deep bow of reverence to the practices of mindfulness, lovingkindness, compassion, joy, and equanimity with meditation and writing carrying me through some of the darkest times of post-partum depression and anxiety, losing my aunt-mom to cancer, chronic sacro-iliac, gluteal muscle pain, and COVID-19. Though Western medicine and other modalities have been supportive, it is these practices that saved me from sacrificing this heart-mind-body to fear and doubt.

To this end, I’d like to support others in planting loving intentions for 2021. Will you join me here? However you choose to heal and support yourself in 2021, may you remember that love and wisdom are so much larger than fear and doubt. What you plant now affects everyone and everything around you for days, weeks, months, and years to come.

Nisargadatta Maharaj  said, “Wisdom tells me I am nothing. Love tells me I am everything. And between the two my life flows.”

May the idea of a separate self dissolve with the wisdom of shared journeys. May love connect you to all.

There is a key that I’ve found through these practices, unlocking mysteries, answering questions I’ve had over lifetimes. I’m so afraid to lose this key, guarding it sometimes to the detriment of my relationships with loved ones. What if I forget? What if I’m not perfect in practices, in life? Will I spiral down into the womb of bloody postpartum darkness where thoughts threaten connection and unwanted emotions signal abandonment? Who will love me then? Will I be strong enough alone? Can I remember these practices without the key?

Menstrual cycles are irregular. Moods shift like unpredictable weather patterns. Gripping the key tightly- identities of a meditator, writer, physician, healer, mother, wife, daughter, family member and friend, I don’t want the life I’ve so carefully constructed over the last fourteen years to change. If it does, I only want it to change for the better (whatever that means).

In meditation this morning, I heard the following words. Awareness that this practice is not about perfection or self-improvement, but trusting the heart without expectation. What if I toss the key into the ocean, allow the waves to swallow this house of sand?

Loving awareness is everywhere. It’s time to let go of the key…

Bubbles and Butterflies by Shirley Reede

I was grateful for some quiet time to unplug from work - sit, walk, read, write, and engage with the Bikkhunis from Aloka Vihara and poems from the Therigatha on a home retreat for a few days.

 
Tissa ~ Third
 
Why stay here
in your little 
dungeon?
 
If you really
want to be free,
make 
every
thought--
a thought of freedom.
 
Break your chains.
Tear down the walls.
 
Then walk the world--
a free woman.
 
 
In the silence, a life pattern I’ve known about for some time resurfaced for contemplation.
 
I rely on specific outcomes, conditions for happiness.
 
Since the pandemic changed our way of life in March, I’m reflecting on identity, what really matters to me, and how I want to contribute to the wellbeing of others based on my own dance with life.
 
I was filled with ideas of healing hope, gift wrapping them faster than others could open and enjoy them. “Would any physician like peer support, mindfulness training? How about compassionate support? Would any patient like a mindfulness consultation, a tailored mindfulness meditation created just for you? Step right up and sign up for a mindfulness for stress shared medical appointment, or an online six-week meditation and reflective journaling class.”
“Take me out of respiratory clinic! That isn’t where my talent is. As every place is being hit hard economically, medicine is no exception. I’d like to make a living (right livelihood) offering mindfulness as medicine in addition to Western medicine.”
 
Just typing all this out and reading it aloud makes me realize how much energy I’ve directed into willing a certain outcome.  I’ve also strategically tried to plan trips when other vacation plans were cancelled for safety reasons, and constantly check my phone to see if I’m receiving emails or texts that align with my ideal future. What have I missed along the way?
 
There is so much compassion for this heart-mind that dearly loves mindfulness, not just for stress reduction, but for the deep and profound ways the teachings have changed and healed my life. Of course I am passionate about this! I just need to remember that is not the medicine for everyone. Or, the package it comes in, the way that it’s offered may not work for everyone.
 
As much as I enjoy and am committed to Western medicine for its miracles and healing opportunities, it does not always integrate body, mind and spirit the way meditation and writing do. I understand why it feels like a part of my healing energy, my creative spirit stagnates when it doesn’t flow the way I envisioned it would.
 
Life is asking me to be on the lookout for joy and wonder like a toddler delighting in summer bubbles and butterflies. Life is also asking me to get curious, to be patient, to delight in the care received from others and be on the lookout for opportunities to extend care to others. 
 
Having a distinct vision for joy, wonder, and care is not wrong. It’s the attachment for things to be a certain way that causes suffering. It’s the limiting beliefs that cause distress. Anything short or different from The Vision is a failure, not good enough, all my fault.
 
 
Letting Go (inspired by Tissa ~ Third)
 
Why stay here
in your little 
world?
 
If you really
want to be happy,
make 
every
moment,
a moment of care.
 
Open your mind.
Let go of limiting thoughts.
 
Then meet each moment
with curiosity and wonder.
 
 
May we all let go of life patterns that cause suffering. May we let go into life’s mysterious unfolding.
May we be on the lookout for joy, wonder and care in each moment.
 
(Please share information about this class with anyone interested. As I am learning to let go, I can still advertise😉!)

The Dakini Speaks
© Jennifer Welwood

My friends, let’s grow up.
Let’s stop pretending we don’t know the deal here.
Or if we truly haven’t noticed, let’s wake up and notice.
Look: Everything that can be lost, will be lost.
It’s simple — how could we have missed it for so long?
Let’s grieve our losses fully, like ripe human beings,
But please, let’s not be so shocked by them.
Let’s not act so betrayed,
As though life had broken her secret promise to us.
Impermanence is life’s only promise to us,
And she keeps it with ruthless impeccability.
To a child she seems cruel, but she is only wild,
And her compassion exquisitely precise:
Brilliantly penetrating, luminous with truth,
She strips away the unreal to show us the real.
This is the true ride — let’s give ourselves to it!
Let’s stop making deals for a safe passage:
There isn’t one anyway, and the cost is too high.
We are not children anymore.
The true human adult gives everything for what cannot be lost.
Let’s dance the wild dance of no hope!
 

 
When I first heard this poem some years ago, it sounded bleak. Dance the wild dance of no hope? With a passion for beauty, creativity, singing, dancing, and music, I simply could not relate. I also couldn’t resolve the spiritual and creative parts of me that sometimes felt as odds with one another. Dhamma retreats that involved sitting, walking meditation, then more sitting and walking mediation for hours and days on end felt dry, as if something were missing. (Maybe this is why I insist on writing, sometimes singing and dancing on silent retreats when no one is looking or listening.)

Now, change and uncertainty have taken center stage. The Dakini speaks, and I am listening. Have I truly missed the deal here? I’m starting to wake up and notice. For me, uncertainty is so unsettling because of my patterns of control. Though I’ve told others this pandemic is not a sprint, but a marathon, I find myself at many imaginary finish lines hoping the race is over.

I want to travel, eat at my favorite restaurants, go on retreat, get together with family and friends, see patients in person, have my hair cut and colored, and not virtually! And I recognize these are minor inconveniences to have, as many others are suffering in real and devastating ways.

So how can I not act so shocked and grieve certain losses fully like a ripe human being? It helps to acknowledge these “losses” with honesty, without spiritually bypassing the true feelings of impatience, anger, sadness, fear, and overwhelm that may be present. The ripeness includes a clear, wise mind asking, “What’s happening now?” and a spacious, compassionate heart asking, “How am I relating to this?”

It’s important for me to remember that this practice is not perfect. Judgements and resistance still arise. All my habitual patterns of control (blaming others, blaming myself, food and retail therapy, meticulously cleaning, strategically planning) are implemented one after the other in the name of protecting the self. And so many things influence the fight-flight-freeze reaction and the tend and befriend response: physical, emotional, economic stability, practice history, etc.

Most days, I find that I am somewhere in between both physiologic processes. A quivering belly, rapid heart rate, and tense muscles are met with earth connection, warm breath, and fluid understanding of not acting so betrayed. Impermanence is life’s only promise, so what COVID-19 is teaching me is not new. I was just in denial.

Just as Toto pulled back the curtain to the great Wizard of Oz revealing an ordinary man, can I strip away the unreal and live with the real, giving myself completely to this one true ride? I’m tired of making deals for a safe passage. If there isn’t one, and the cost is too high, what does it mean to dance the wild dance of no hope? If there is no ground, what can I stand with, stand for?

I don’t have perfect, complete answers to these questions. Like many of you reading this, I’m still sensing my way into ‘answers’, trying to be as patient, honest, compassionate, and open as I can be along the way. Two words, concepts arising in meditation and life practice over the last few days are wholeness and goodness. Despite feeling broken, imperfect, and disconnected at times, I recognize that my purpose as a physician, meditation/movement practitioner, parent, and writer is not to cure everyone, but tap into an energy of healing that happens whenever the heart-mind is truly present and listening. And goodness isn’t a Pollyannish ignorance of the severe and overwhelming destruction caused by this pandemic, but stories of care I’m seeing, experiencing, and hearing about each day.

If impermanence is life’s only promise, then let my response be wholeness, goodness, and care, knowing that it is imperfect. What will your response be?
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As you sit, stand, walk, and lie down with this ground of uncertainty, what is still true for you? The Buddha said, “Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal rule.” May you connect with what is still true for you. May this guide you, support you, nourish you in the days and weeks to come.

(This post was inspired by Sebene Selassie, Sharon Salzberg, and Vesak.)

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.
​
Come, yet again, come, come.

Expectations. Many of us have them. They aren’t bad or wrong. And, like weeds disguised as flowers, they can proliferate in the mind with false promises of beauty and permanence.

Have you ever wanted someone, yourself, or a situation to be different, directing the show and dumbfounded when life plays out a script you haven’t written? Are you tired of trying to control each scene like I am? Do the actors listen? Are the props and artwork of each backdrop good enough? Are they even real?

If you resonate with any the above inquires, please know you are not alone. I’d like to share some ways I’ve been practicing with expectations to cultivate contentment.

1. Acknowledge, name the expectation. Once known, it can lose it's automatic pilot power over you.
2. Breathe with what is happening internally, bow to it as a divine messenger of wisdom not yet recognized. When there is internal space, other possibilities can be seen/heard/felt.
3. Get curious about the need beneath the expectation. Do you really want safety, connection, love, acceptance, peace? Ask the question gently; the answer will not come before it's ripe and ready.
4. Deepen the attention with compassion- an ally, word, image or phrase that feels comforting. (For some, humor, gratitude, etc. may be more accessible than compassion to deepen attention.)

This process is not cognitive gymnastics. You don’t get an Olympic gold medal for overthinking. If you find the mind or body are contracted, try softer, not harder. Let go of words, the need to know, getting it right. Let go of the practice itself. 

It’s common for fear and doubt to arise. If you let go, what’s left? Do you lose others? Do you lose yourself? When you are fully inhabiting this moment as best as you possibly can, there is nothing left but space for seeds of love (or whatever wholesome word fits here for you) to grow, for silence to give birth to the answers you seek.

This process is also not linear. Though I’ve chosen ABCD as acronyms for ease of remembrance, A doesn’t necessarily lead to B, C, and D.

It’s helpful to think of this as a template, a skeleton. How you fill in the missing parts and embody them is up to you. What feels true in your experience? What feels like home?

May this post inspire a contentment far beyond the false facade of happiness advertised in comparing mind, on Facebook, and many other modes of media.

May we find peace and let go, knowing we will forget, trust, and confidently find peace again.​