​​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.
​

The sound of driving
Images through the windshield 
The mind wanders
But awareness knows
The way back to freedom
Pausing 
Between the seen, the heard
Before a response is rendered 
It’s ok sweetheart
Welcome home again 
Imagine greeting others this way
What the world would be like
If we could all return to this moment
From wherever we are
 
Everything that enters through the sense doors of sight, sound, taste, smell, touch, even a thought, is based on causes, conditions, influences, and beliefs. Yet we believe everything we see, everything we hear as if it were the ultimate truth:  a Facebook story with stunning pictures and the promise of bliss, circulating gossip at work and social gatherings, our loved ones’ outbursts, among other things.

Will we experience the same bliss if we dress similarly and visit the same places as our Facebook friends? Is the circulating gossip confirmed by our clarification first hand with those involved in the story? Do our loved ones really mean what they are saying in the heat of anger and irritation?

As I was driving to work one day, sounds of tires rolling, wind blowing, sights of other cars on the road and views of the bay were all perceived through the sense doors. For a few brief moments, bare attention was sustained on these sights and sounds. Soon the mind wandered, but awareness knew the way back to freedom.

Truth and safety can only be found in this moment, when we ask ourselves, “What is actually happening right now? Am I seeing clearly, or is my perception affected by tinted glasses?” When I pause between the seen, the heard, before I react and say or do something I’ll later regret based on misperceptions, there is a space. In that space lies the choice to sew seeds of greed, hatred and delusion, or generosity, kindness, and wisdom.

Before a response is rendered, we can give overwhelming thoughts, feelings, and sensations space to play themselves out in the body. Rilke said, “Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final.” Maybe ‘just keep breathing’ would be more helpful in this context. It doesn’t matter how many times we have left this moment. It is there to greet all prodigal daughters and sons with open arms.

It’s ok sweetheart
Welcome home again    

In that welcome, we can be thoroughly nourished and resourced, returning again and again for the promise of true freedom.

*****

What started as a practice in stress reduction over twelve years ago has now taken on a relational quality and meaning for me. The more I return to present moment awareness and question what enters the sense doors, the more I understand about karmic potential. For me, mindfulness isn’t just about sitting on the cushion for temporary peace. It’s learning to greet others with the same Namaste that each moment greets me.

Imagine what the world would be like if we could all return to this moment from wherever we are.​

I couldn’t love her the way she needed to be loved. I couldn’t support the last three months of her life as the cancer was slowly invading her digestive tract, pancreas, and lungs the way a bad nightmare does, except she never got to wake up.

I was too busy being angry and hurt over sibling dynamics, feeling invisible, outfitting her with a traditional standard I had come to despise. It was easy to conveniently forget her safe escort on three different buses we needed to take to and from the orthodontics office, the way she would tear her old Indian saris and sew them into long skirts because she knew I loved them, the house filled with the scent of masala 24/7 so we would never starve while growing up.

Why was I still hungry?

*****

We honored the 5-year anniversary of her death through puja. I was drawn to the diya like a moth to a flame, singing with a fervency during the arti that felt misplaced. Who was this 45-year-old woman child hearing her mother singing, seeing her soul, her name in the sacred fire?
​
Who was the sister blaming her brother for distance and insensitivity, blaming herself for deficiency and vulnerability?

*****

A few days later in yoga practice, I felt intuitively called to listen to one of my favorite bhajans. A torrential downpour of emotion flooded the mat. I was grieving all the things I expected of Mummy, all the blocks to loving her just as she was. There was no dam to hold anything back, nothing between me and this moment.

Forgiveness was palpable both ways.

*****

She’s lacing up her black Converse, noticing a brown mark on one side of a shoe. She stands to retrieve a wet washcloth to wipe the shoes she is so proud of.

I comment on the mark. Maybe it’s a scuff from my sandal the other day as we were walking to the library. She glares at me with that entitled teenage look, punishing with silence and a hug withheld before biking off to school.

“I let you go with love”, I call out cheerfully.  “You know where to find me!”

*****

We think we have forever with loved ones, a lifetime to heal a suffocating heart that can barely breathe.

Can we compassionately bow to each thought, feeling and sensation sculpted from the cycle of dependent origination into a solid self? Can we be patient with practice, trust wise teachers, good friends, and tenderness to slowly crack the plaster open?

Opening to vulnerability is not natural. It takes so much courage and support. I carry these verbal snapshots of unconditional love like passages from the holy books, knowing things will change.

The plaster will harden with conditional love and soften with practice again.

Note: 

puja: a prayer ritual performed by Hindus of devotional worship to one or more deities, or to host and honor a guest, or one to spiritually celebrate an event

diya: an oil lamp used in the Indian subcontinent, notably India and Nepal, usually made from clay, with a cotton wick dipped in ghee or vegetable oils

arti: a Hindu religious ritual of worship, a part of puja, in which light from wicks soaked in ghee (purified butter) or camphor is offered to one or more deities

bhajan: any song with religious theme or spiritual ideas, in a regional South Asian language

Cycle of Dependent Origination: A chain of causes which result in rebirth and dukkha (suffering). By breaking the chain, liberation from suffering can be attained.

What she said, what she did really pissed me off. The precept, ‘knowing that our lives intertwine, I vow to speak only what it true, useful and kind‘ felt like a distant memory. Years of painful conditioning begged for release. I wanted to hurt her.

What I really wanted was for her to be conscious, for intimacy in this relationship to be built on something stronger than the ego.

*****

In The Yoga of Relationship, Phillip Moffitt describes three types of relationships: ego at the center, love and ego at the center, and love at the center. Though the model describes romantic relationships, I see how it applies to all relationships – family, friends, coworkers, neighbors, challenging folks, EVERYONE.

I immediately recognize the first type of relationship with this being. For years, the heart has diligently practiced metta for her. I know she is overwhelmed by insecurity, her actions inspired by the promise of ego belonging. It’s why we collide like asteroids so many times, instead of orbiting each other’s celestial being in awe.

May you feel a sense of belonging without the need to criticize others.

I yearn for the second type of relationship where love is also brought into the center with ego. For years, the heart has also practiced metta for this writer. I want to move beyond sense doors that trigger past hurt – sights and sounds that constrict the heart to hurt more and love less.

May I speak my truth with kindness.

“When love and ego are at the center, you are not abandoning or martyring yourself. Instead, you are giving up certain expectations, which means that your relationship to the energy of love is not dependent on your partner (or other being).”

Can I appreciate this being’s cycle of dependent origination causing her to connect mainly through comparison over compassion? Can I renounce certain expectations, so that my relationship to love is not dependent on her? Can this relationship be built on Metta (lovingkindness), Karuna (compassion), Mudita (joy), Upekkha (equanimity), where the heart is not just a welcome doormat easily stepped on, but a heavenly abode that opens to love’s possibility when feeling resourced and safe?

*****

What she said, what she did still pisses me off. The hurt is less. Wanting her to be more conscious, I turn inward, asking citta (heart-mind) for intimacy in this relationship to be built on something stronger than the ego, for the Brahmaviharas to hold us both.
​
(May the benefits of this practice be shared by all beings who struggle in relationship, all beings yearning for conscious connection.)

Fools gold or the perfect diamond. The ego swings between deficiency and excess. What is the middle way between these two extremes? How does one uncover the True Nature inherent to all sentient beings?

I find my own life pendulating between both sides. At one end, other mindfulness teachers attract a larger audience while I’m screaming on the inside for attention. My daughter idolizes my husband and looks past me with irritable tolerance. I am not welcome in certain homes and hearts because there is something wrong with me. 

At the other end, I am a unique healer who offers compassionate, healing presence, a writer who articulates sincere reflections from the heart better than others. If someone else displays these traits, they are a threat to my very existence.

Over time, even a swinging pendulum will evolve towards a state of equilibrium, a still point. Where is this place of stillness for the ego? What is my name here? Who is writing this blog piece right now?

Mind and heart agree to meet in this moment. Mind agrees to project poignant memories free of a solid self. Heart agrees to the virtues of compassion, patience, trust. Bodhicitta awakens.
​
No teacher or student, no mother or daughter, no insider or outsider, no healer or patient, no writer or reader.


The Peace of Wild Things 
by Wendell Berry 


When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
 in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
 I go and lie down where the wood drake
 rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
 I come into the peace of wild things
 who do not tax their lives with forethought
 of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
 And I feel above me the day-blind stars
 waiting with their light. For a time
​ I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.


Sometimes in nature or meditation, while writing, parenting, holding space for patients and class participants, or engaging with others, the bobbing ego rests. There is no need to move towards a state of deficiency or excess, but rest in the True Nature pattern intrinsic to the fabric of all life.

May 2018 be the year i come into the peace of wild things, resting in the grace of the world, sensing hearts beating, meeting, blossoming open like lotus flowers still anchored to muddy egos, yearning to be free.

Balance, ©

You don't have to be perfect,
just present for the gift of insight  
each time you breathe into this moment.
The top ten hits can fade into silence
as you listen for another song-
one you've always known
but conveniently forget
when joy wrestles with sorrow.
The tipping point between peaks
and troughs of experience 
was never controlled by others,
but the balance inside your own heart.
 
Do you ever get tired of listening to your top ten hits, songs you play repeatedly sending the same subliminal message of victimization and entitlement?

He doesn’t care about me. She isn’t trying as hard as I am. My body isn’t supposed to feel this way.

It’s easy to blame someone else for your disappointment, or point the finger within. After all, your life would be perfect if he/she would stop saying this or doing that, if you could whip yourself into the shape of perfection.

What insights do we miss when we are too busy scurrying around like mice to fix someone else or ourselves? What covers do we use to hide vulnerability, to push discomfort down so deep that we are shocked when it resurfaces.

Where did this come from? I don’t recognize it.

And if I do recognize it, why on Earth would I ever want to engage? Isn’t it easier to blame?

The Song of Silence is our greatest ally. It’s where we can press the pause button and quiet the core beliefs. Joy was never wrestling with sorrow. Both were always dancing, taking turns to share the spotlight.

Balance comes when we recognize that the tipping point between peaks and troughs of our experiences was never controlled by others.

You are not the reason for my absolute joy. You are not the reason for my absolute sorrow.

Is it possible that all beings simply mirror your capacity for both ends of the spectrum?

Whether he cares about you or not, whether she is trying as hard as you are or not, whether your body is cooperating or not, your heart alone carries the capacity for equanimity.

This is not an ideal to perfect, but a possibility to practice. In the relative realm, we crash into each other and demand payment for damages incurred. In the absolute realm, we are all jewels in Indra’s net and speak/act accordingly.

You must understand what it means to live between the balance of these two realms, “to let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don’t let yourself lose me.” (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Who is this me? As you practice breathing into each moment, touching each vulnerability and bathing it in the blessing of loving awareness, may you find “an unshakeable freedom of heart”. (heard from Dori Langevin) May you pause long enough for silence to disarm doubt, till the balance inside is the me you recognize.