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.​

Doubt arose on my last mindfulness retreat when conflict, drama, and trauma occurred.

Doubt surfaced on vacation while snorkeling, salt water stinging my nose and contact lens filled eyes as waves teased my life jacket.

Doubt appeared at work, home, and in the to do list when I was speeding to get things done and forgot mindful embodiment.

Doubt emerged when I was feeling inadequate in all my roles, when I projected these shortcomings onto my daughter and demanded more of her.

Doubt turned up with the holidays arriving as I was thinking of family, the distance between the way things should be and the way they really are.

Doubt can feel like a thick fog as the mind fires questions like shots in rapid succession, desperately searching for target answers. The mind hates uncertainty. It needs to know, now!

I sat with doubt in meditation, noticing thoughts, feeling the feelings, breathing, sensing the internal wind’s urgency to know. Feeling the zafu, yoga mat, and ground beneath me, the presence of enlightened ancestors surrounding me, this is what I heard:
 
I see you, Mara
and no longer have to believe
your thoughts that keep me
scared, small, stuck in a stone
prison where I cannot see
the Buddha touch the earth,
cannot hear him whisper
Ehipassiko, ehipassiko.
 
Why am I so homeless, searching
for sacred ancestry through thoughts?
I am Sakyamuni’s daughter,
Prajnaparamita’s granddaughter.
I will sit, breathe, walk, write
to remember my purpose, this path--
Earth Goddess calling me to ground,
Ehipassiko, ehipassiko.
 
Doubt, I see you. I don’t have to answer all your questions. I can answer some questions when I feel embodied, able, ready. The other questions may not need answers, but loving awareness and wise acceptance.

​Notes:

Mara- The demon who tempted the Buddha prior to his enlightenment. Doubt was Mara's final attempt to discourage the Buddha from believing his True Nature.

​Ehipassiko- Pali term for 'come and see for yourself'.

​Sakyamuni- Another name for the Buddha, born in Sakya, from the Sakya tribe.

​Prajnaparamita- The 'perfection of wisdom', the mother of all buddhas, the nature of reality.