​Climbing up the steep hill at Foothills Park,
I reflect on this faint sensation
pushing from the back, pulling forward
without regard for the body’s buy in,
the heart’s sensitivities, the mind
taking over the whole endeavor
as if speed and production are key.
How often do I push patients, pull
at the loose ends of family and friends
to get somewhere, get something done,
the checklist seemingly complete
so I can finally stop and breathe?

I’m so tired of this conditioning,
this need to move at the pace
of a ticking time bomb ready to explode.
What would it mean to find my own rhythm,
heed the call of heart time not measured
in seconds, minutes, hours, even days
but in compassion, curiosity, creativity-
slowing down to create/discover
what it means to move at own pace?

​Praying to the porcelain god (not knowing if the Andean gods hear me), I am emptied out from both ends. Have the indigenous ways failed, or am I just not ready to receive their healing potential?

My patient, loyal, husband stands by, watching and waiting for what’s needed next. He doesn’t remind be of the Diamox I could have taken the day before arriving to Cusco, Peru to minimize the effects of altitude sickness like he did. He doesn’t judge the muña tea I drank in cupfuls, believing it would be enough.

Instead, he waits and honors my autonomy. Can you stay up for another hour after the nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea have subsided? Then the Diamox has a chance to stay in your system.

****

We exit the Vista Dome train headed for Auguas Calientes at kilometer 104, the beginning of our two-day Inca trail trek. Filled with trepidation and excitement, so many aversive and awe-inspiring thoughts pass through. I wonder which ones will prevail.
​

​

​Within the first few miles of the trek, it’s clear that this is more than a ‘moderate’ hike as advertised. There are many large, steep stone steps to scale, and it is much warmer than expected.

Feeling wobbly in the legs and as if the heart and lungs will explode beyond my rib cage from the altitude and exertion (despite the Diamox I am now taking, and muña mist I am inhaling while doing earth salutations to Pachamama), there is a desperate attempt to grasp at anything that will inspire perseverance.

At first I chant the Metta Sutta, tuning into the heart’s emotional resonances to soothe aversive thoughts and mistrust in the body. I also imagine others beings near and far championing my efforts at various points along the way.

It works for some time. Until judging, comparing mind returns with a vengeance. Everyone is passing you up, Kaveri. You are the caboose in your group. Even older hikers are more fit than you are!

There needs to be more space beyond the thoughts arising in my head and uncomfortable body sensations. 

Becoming more porous to sounds of flowing water, footfalls and voices from other hikers, appreciating the bright colored gossamer wings of various mariposa species against the lush green backdrop of the Andes mountains, wild orchids gracing the path, and precision of ancient Incan ruins in tune with the seasons, there is less of a self to protect. It still requires some soothing.

I try not to look beyond the steps a few feet in front of me. Just this step. Just this breath. It’s easier trust this moment and the next one if I don’t need to manage the whole journey beyond what I can see and handle.

I hear Pachamama’s voice:

Life can be perceived as a punishment when things go wrong, or a blessing of small and large miracles in each moment. Like weather patterns and moods, perceptions often fluctuate between the two.

And that’s ok.

****

A few days after the body and mind have had a chance to rest and recuperate, I am reminded of some images that visited me before leaving for Peru.

In the first image, a figure of love in the form of the fictional panda character, Stillwater sits tall like a mountain. He asks me to sit next to him and look down into the water he is overlooking. What do you see?

At first all I see are dark, murky swirls with some flashes of a being filled with aversive, doubting thoughts.

When Stillwater asks me to look again, I catch glimpses of a beautiful iridescent heart that appears to extend beyond the water, beyond space and time.

In the second image, there is a magical tree that bears fruit in various shapes and colors. Each being grows from a fruit, nourished by a unique umbilical branch from the same mother tree. No two being are exactly the same, and they can shift into another shape or color.

I humbly bow to this tree for its beauty, meaningfulness, and implications for each being to extend into unfathomable beyonds, beyond the shapes and colors that are limited to a still-life painting.

We are dynamic beings, more than our skin, shape and color. We have a rich inheritance, no matter how we perceive our family tree.

May all beings see and sense in soulful ways that inspire healing and adventure.

The art class is located inside a studio in a small suburban shopping center next to an Indian grocery store. As Rachel and I walk in, we exchange exuberant facial expressions. Instead of a woman in midlife, I feel like a kindergartener about to fingerpaint. Our eyes widen in excitement as we take in the mosaic tiles and beads neatly separated by colors in small bowls at each workstation. Turkish mosaic lamps and candle holders of various designs are on display throughout the room to inspire our imagination.

“Where should we sit?”, I ask Rachel.

“Let’s sit at the edge of the table so we have more room to move around”, she replies.

“Good idea!”

We place our belongings on two chairs facing each other each other near the studio entrance. Taking our seats, Rachel and I introduce ourselves to a couple sitting next to us. We each begin to use a paper template in front of us to map out design ideas before gluing the mosaic tiles onto the glass globe of our respective lamps.

When our instructors indicate that it’s time to transfer the mosaic tiles and beads onto the glass, I panic. My design is ready, but it doesn’t look or feel like the images I had envisioned for the lamp prior to class. I begin to doubt the colors and shapes I’ve chosen and start to compare my design to those of our neighbors and Rachel.

This is not how this class is supposed to unfold!

To make matters worse, I cannot retain the exact design when I start to glue the mosaic pieces onto the glass. It takes gentle effort and patient precision, two things that are not included in our art supplies as my perception of time begins to contract.

“Let’s just get this over with”, my mind silently shouts as my heart sinks. The kindergartner come middle aged woman feels like she’s messing up. I try to remain positive, plastering a smile on my face and making polite conversation with Rachel and the couple next to us. Inside I feel tense but continue to diligently glue each piece into place.

The pieces are crooked with spaces between them, and the larger designs are not symmetrically spaced around the glass globe. A part of me remembers the joy of art as process over art as product, but that part is stifled by the need to finish the product in the studio time remaining.

*****

The next day, I remove the glass globe and try to fill in the spaces with the plaster provided in the take home kit. Mixing the powder with too much water, the plaster is too thin to stick to the glass. Frustrated, I proceed to wash off all the excess runny plaster. In the process, some beads fall off the glass globe.

Ugghh! This shouldn’t be happening.

Ah, but it is!

Who said that? The voice does not return till I walk away from the mess I am making.

Perfection assesses whether someone or something is worthy, worthwhile. It sees in black and white. This is either all good or all bad. Perfection thrives on fear, rigid judgments, restlessness until perfection is achieved. It’s fragmented, believing happiness resides in a limited range of experience. It’s a constant uphill climb, and forever exhausting.

Wholeness invites all aspects of a mosaic experience, understanding the picture is incomplete with any piece left out. It’s patient, allowing mental and bodily formations to communicate, as the heart bathes the experience in whatever wholesome factor is needed for unification. Wholeness perceives above below, around any fixed view to see and sense with soul, to cultivate contentment in all circumstances.

Perfection or wholeness? Where do you want to live, Kaveri? Even this dual reflection is a cause for suffering. Know that you are shaped by both, that each influences the other, and bow to the full range of life experience.

*****

I decide to walk away from the art project, reflecting on the process instead of the final product. Art is very similar to the meditation process. If my attention is tense, tight, narrow, and analytical, I will perceive the experience as unpleasant. If my attention is more relaxed, soft, expansive, and observing in nature, the experience can be neutral, maybe even pleasant.

Ideas of perfection, wholeness, process and product all swirl around in the limited space of my cranium. I take them to the meditation cushion and sit. Like pinballs, they keep bumping up against walls until there is no controller trying to save and define them. Fixed, judgmental attention transforms into relaxed, loving awareness as metta permeates through the entire space.

May I be gentle with the process.
May there be confidence in the beauty of awareness.

Just as the bell punctuates the end of the meditation sit, an insight arises. Beauty is not limited to a final work of art or an artist. It is also inherent in wholesome mind states brought to any artistic or meditative process. Viewed this way, nothing is an ugly mistake. No parts are left out.

Feeling more curious and connected to the Turkish mosaic lamp, I hold it with tenderness, patiently gluing each small bead back on one by one with crazy glue. Giving it another 24 hours to dry, I wait for my partner to help me assemble it when he has time.

What’s the rush?

​Caste in bronze resin sitting on top of a ferocious lion, she commands attention at center stage. Endowed with power from multiple male deities to defeat the demon Mahishasura, she wields the weapons of a chakra, conch, bow, arrow, sword, javelin, trishula, shield, and a noose to clear all obstacles. Bejeweled in crimson and green ornaments adorning her crown, ears, neck, and waist, she embodies the cycle of death and rebirth, endings and beginnings necessary for all human experience.
 
My mothers never prayed to her. I wonder if paying attention to her now will strengthen and heal the maternal line.
 
To her right sits a smaller being caste is the same bronze resin. He was known to wear simple saffron robes and walk barefoot for miles in search of suitable space for long periods of meditation. 
 
I still don’t understand how he abandoned his wife, Yasodhara or his son, Rahula in search of enlightenment. Can enlightenment still be found as a householder? As I try to reconcile this paradox in heart and mind, I am still grateful for the Four Noble Truths, the Eightfold Path, the numerous lists as treasure maps to freedom. Maybe he didn’t abandon his family, but sacrificed the comforts of a safe, opulent life for something far more valuable.
 
To his and her left is another small being cast in the same bronze resin. She hears the cries of the world and stays till there is ease. Her demeanor is relaxed, yet ready to spring into action and alleviate suffering at a moment’s notice. She is the embodiment of the most caring 911 system I have ever seen. I’m still exploring hidden caves of compassion inside her world.
 
Above them all hovers a spirit in flight wearing colorful feathers in solidarity with the winged friends surrounding her. Trapped in 2D and a mahogany frame, she yearns to gather momentum and fly on wings of creative intuition, to leave the limitations of 8.5. X 11“ flat space in favor of more dimensionality without rules. She embodies the wisdom of stillness and movement, the space needed for meaningful transformation to occur in divine time. She understands that the wonders of the world were not created overnight.
 
Each day I light a candle, bowing in humble reverence to each of these beings, to their symbolism and the qualities they inspire in me.
 
I still feel this heart encased in layers of misunderstanding, a hidden gem polished by years of devotion.
 
One day there will be a dissolving of all separation. One day, I will be free to love as I was meant to.
 
There is no doubt.

​Mother Moment

she understands you worry about the future
keep visiting the past as if rereading
the chapters will help you to understand
she invites you to be here
sitting and walking, just breathing
as if there’s no place else to be
as if this is the missing link
the sanctuary you always sought
​

​The Last 15 Minutes of a 45 Minute Sit

leaning into what’s next
the body screams to get up
as the mind conspires to leave
not yet, the heart whispers
just one more minute
as body and mind agree
to settle, to relax
then the sound of the bell
an invitation to enter life
one minute, one breath
one day at a time
​

​Anjali Mudra

bowing to everyone you meet
reflecting True Nature
when it’s hard to see
because there is clarity in you

Gone
 
 Gone, the sweet tartness of plump blueberries,
the crunch of cinnamon peppered almonds
in a sea of steaming oatmeal,
now a gurgling afterthought in the belly.
Gone, the tender tones of his teaching instructions
after the birth of an 8:45am sit,
umbilical cut to silence, to sadness
not knowing if I’ll ever see or hear him again.
Gone, the scene of a Saturday morning
girls’ soccer game at the local middle school,
the house with the rose stems
beheaded by the fall season,
white petals decaying between wood chips and soil,
the bright yellow diamond 15 mile per hour
speed bump sign as I turn the corner
of walking meditation towards home--
images encased in the album
of memory that will fade.
I’m chasing after the high school bus,
first kiss, first lover, first child, first job
the way I looked in that residency picture at 31,
abundant glossy black hair and clear complexion
though nothing was ever really clear.
Gone, the thought of what’s next on the schedule
as my invincible partner collapses
on our bed from excruciating back pain,
his body subject to breakdown
like everyone else I know.
Gone, the belief that this retreat will last forever--
a perpetual bomb shelter of safety
against the war with life
when the vihara was always within.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
A birthday candle wish that was never promised,
and a blessing of breath while it lasted.

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.
 

The sound of bristles against gums and bone.
Water cascading from the faucet and gurgling in my mouth.
Mint flavored tooth paste awakening taste buds
as soles of the feet plug into Mama Earth.

This is enough entertainment--
a simple sense opening of gratitude
for teeth that masticate complex textures
into bite sized bits I can swallow.
 
When there is mindful presence for simple things like brushing my teeth, life is more manageable. It’s so much easier to unitask than multitask when there is appreciation for the task at hand.

There are teachings on liberation called disenchantment (nibbida) and dispassion (viraga). If I can see the ways in which I’m caught in certain traps of dissatisfaction, there’s hope in slowly letting go without sustaining rope burn.

I can’t force or will myself to let go. I need to understand the stories I’m believing, the enchantment of the false refuge. What does it offer? Is it lasting? I also need to trust that relinquishing it will offer something more satisfying in its place.

Let’s take the number of times I check my phone in a day. Why? As I investigate all the reasons— for connection, comfort, safety, information, entertainment, and wellbeing, I wonder what would happen if I checked it less often.

Could this moment give me what I have been chasing elsewhere? Could it offer something more precious?

“It’s the simple things in life that are the most extraordinary.” (Paulo Coelho)
​
May an embodied understanding of this truth be realized a bit more each day.

Each day as I leave for work,
Mummy imparts the ancestral
blessing of Jai Shri Krishna
punctuated by Have a nice day.
A nice day is when each patient
is on time, no dirty laundry
hanging outside their neatly packed
suitcase of symptoms I hope will
disappear after the appointment is done.
 
Today, I challenged the notion
of a nice day, invited a few patients
with heavier suitcases to stay awhile,
to unpack their symptoms and the
stories underneath them. I learned
that I don’t have magic medicine
to soothe every ailment or a perfect 
plan to permanently cure disease.
 
What I can offer is a loving look 
that says I see you as more 
than a problem list of diagnoses,
supportive listening presence
that hears the wish for wellbeing,
compassionate hands holding
all the places that feel broken
inside patients, inside myself
trusting something larger than
us both to guide the way.
 
*****
 
What does it mean to wish someone a nice day, a nice weekend, a nice vacation? For me, there is often a mental labeling that is associated with nice. It could mean good, smooth, easy, joyful, happy, no drama, etc.
 
And I know that this perpetual notion of nice goes against the natural rhythms of life. Things are often far from perfect. The seventy something year old patient with a long list of complaints who can’t come in at a later appointment and is trying to fit into a 20-minute slot, now 10 minutes after rooming and me running behind schedule. The driver who weaves in and out of two lanes on community roads as if it were a racetrack. This body that misbehaves physically, emotionally, and spiritually despite my best efforts to heal it (more like control it). A virus that continues to mutate despite advances in science, technology, public health, and so much more.
 
When I challenge the notion of a nice day, perfect life, or anyone, anything that catches me off guard, the attention widens, deepens to notice what else in present. What have I missed? What can I remember? What wholesome heart-mind states will help to hold what is happening with humor, compassion, care, wisdom, patience, trust, beauty, courage, among other things?
 
It takes energy to widen and deepen the attention. I’m not always in the right heart-mind state to do so. It helps to remember that I am not a limitless source of energy, that sometimes it’s best not to confront uncomfortable situations when tired, hungry, sleep deprived, reactive, or any other indication that I am likely to cause more damage than repair. I also need to wisely discern what is in my control, and when I’m trying to drive a car without the right keys.
 
Expending too much energy in multiple directions against the flow of life is useless. I can tell when the body is physically exhausted, the mind agitated and still trying to formulate an alternative plan, the heart whispering to just stop and remember a different way. When I heed the heart’s advice, body and mind slow down. Full exhalations occur before the next inhalation, so there is more space for wholesome qualities to enter.
 
*****
​
As a healer, family and community member, the burden of guilt sometimes outweighs the freedom to travel the path of least resistance. I’m learning that it’s not all up to me or in my hands, AND I still care. In certain situations where I don’t have magic medicine to soothe every ailment or a perfect plan to permanently cure disease, the gift of steady, loving presence is profound. When I trust in the mysterious unfolding of each being’s life (including my own) and apply energy in a manner that supports healing and freedom, there is less ego attachment and more connection to the moment. There is also recognition that things will change, that what’s useful now may need adjustment in a different scenario, trusting something larger ​than the ego self to lead the way.

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.

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😉!)