​12-28-19  Softening Ideas of Self

Loving presence doesn’t ask why
I’m going on retreat, leaving family behind
Why I didn’t bake cookies on Christmas with my sweet-toothed daughter 
Why it’s tempting to sleep in for a 6am sit when the season encourages hibernation 

Loving presence doesn’t award certificates to a maternal safe harbor holding her daughters emotional waves 
To a physician’s compassionate heart making space for each patient’s story
To a writer and yogi trying to wake up from dreams of identity and safe passage

Loving presence becomes the heater when a yogi can’t sleep in her dorm room
Puts a hand on a quivering belly and heart 
Finds sacred in the mundane, the profane 
Sensing the potential in a winter’s branch
​Without needing to see the bud
​
​

12-29-19  Never Enough

winter trees, clawing fingers
grasping for spring 
for something they don’t have
this moment is never enough
​
​

​
12-30-19  Enough

winter trees, bare fingers
not needing spring 
to remind them
​this moment is enough
​

12-31-19  The Indriya River

The river knows it is destined for the ocean. It does not resist meanderings away from the suspected path, energetically flowing in the direction it was meant to flow. It is aware of each stone it caresses, each leaf, each fish, each root it touches moment by moment. The river does not wish it were further upstream or downstream, honoring exactly where it is at any given point in time, surrendering to an ever changing scene.

​The river knows it is destined for the ocean. When it forgets, may it remember again, and again, and again. 
​

​
​1-1-20  Ode to Wool Blankets

You’re scratchy. You keep slipping off
the bed in the middle of the night,
leaving a hole for cold air to 
wake me up before it’s time.
Do you understand why I don’t like you,
why I long  for the down comforter 
my husband insisted I bring here
knowing how cold and grouchy 
I get with poor quality sleep?

Maybe it’s not your fault.
Maybe it’s the way I’m relating to you,
insisting you transform into something you’re not.
What would happen if I trusted you to keep me warm,
​gently pulled you back over this body when you’ve slipped off
rather than yanking you into submission?
What if I accepted you here and now
without rewinding or fast forwarding (in time)
to a high and lofty bed at home,
knowing this can’t last forever?

What if these words could form a soft quilt,
the five faculties stitched into the fabric
of a metta-loving heart?
Wool blankets, may you not be so irritable
as I wrap myself in your embrace.

​

A new year...trying a different way to make the bed.

​

The next morning...it worked!!!
​

1-2-20 

sitting on top 
of a stone sculpture 
i am not afraid to fall
knowing how to rebuild
the structure of samadhi
​when needed
​

1-3-20  Listening

Sit as if you are supported by 
an invisible chair made just for you,
it’s contours molding to your body 
better than any lover can.
Breathe into the areas of discomfort,
massaging them with gentle patience.
How is a masseuse on some tropical  
beach supposed to know your body?
The terror, the longing, the hope 
that one day no part will remain uncharted, 
that all the cobwebs will glisten with tears
in the light of loving awareness,
that a heart can radiate
Brahmavihara blessings
above, below, around and everywhere,
inviting integration.
One body. One breath. One home.
​
​

1/5/20  Coming Home

devoting my life to the teachings 
i am not afraid of what lies ahead 
dying again and again and again
​resting in the arms of truth 

​

In mindfulness practice, I’m invited to fully embody the moment, to move from a thought-based to a sense-based experience. Present moment, wonderful moment. It’s where ultimate peace, freedom, and contentment reside. It’s easy, right?

Wrong! Over the years, I’m humbled by the pitfalls of practice, the holes I still fall into despite a clear cognitive understanding. Maybe the problem is thinking too much.

When things are pleasant, I want to grasp. “It’s mine! Get your own moment.” I try to memorize exactly what was said and done to create the perfect experience. If I can write a wise blog post or meaningful poem, if I can remember that enlightening conversation, I won’t fall into the same hole again. I won’t suffer. I forget how holding on to anyone or anything is like trying to hold water with a sieve or capture a moment in the wild on camera when nature’s flora and fauna refuse to keep still.

When things are unpleasant, I want to escape. “It’s not mine. Get away!” I’ll start to fix the situation with judgments, as if I can correct what’s wrong by erasing a little bit of this person’s character, embellishing the scene to my liking, or adding to my own character that’s flawed. After a few years of practice, I might sugarcoat uncomfortable thoughts and feelings with metta or blanket them in wisdom disguised as delusion, aka spiritually bypassing what truly needs to be felt.

When things are neutral, I want to check out. “It’s too boring. Where’s the remote to change channels?” Fantasy becomes an alternate dimension where I feel more alive. The only problem is nothing is tangible enough to last, and I always have to wake up. If I’ve missed large chunks of reality, it takes more time and energy to catch up, fill in, and make sense of the missing parts.

So how can I train the senses and mind to stay with pleasant, unpleasant, and neutral experiences skillfully without repeating the same, habitual patterns of pulling, pushing away, or projecting?

With grasping, I feel the tension of a tight fist mudra, how the contraction transmits through the forearms, arms, up the neck and forms a viselike band around the cranium, spotlighting the desired object, shrouding signs of impermanence all around me. It’s painful to hold on so tightly. Opening the hand allows fingers to trace the contours of change – rough, smooth, and in between textures without sustaining rope burn. Joyful moments take on a more vivid quality because they are not pressed flowers trapped between the pages of one story, but blooming, dying, and seeding the soil for new stories to emerge.

With aversion, the belly churns acid as volcanic eruptions of undigested contents voice the discontent of anger and fear. The chin and the heart feel heavy with embarrassed hurt. Demons from the past haunt the present and direct an uncertain future.  It’s helpful to welcome all thoughts and feelings as honored guests, bow to them, and recognize that what I am filtering through the sense doors is all conditioned. This is most evident when I am with someone who does not perceive an occurrence the same way. Like a Rorschach ink blot, we see two different things. Acknowledging my ego and views, a window can open between this heart-mind and the outside world to let other realities in.  

This process takes time and can’t be rushed. Honesty means naming what I’m feeling without denial, without spiritually bypassing the alchemical process for fool’s gold. Like a savory dish I’m hungry to eat, it also needs to be seasoned with self-compassion and common humanity, the remembrance that others experience challenges, too. It’s soothing any physical manifestation of discontent in the body with a kind breath, bathing it in loving awareness. It’s understanding that life is not just targeting and making an example out of me.

Another helpful ingredient is patience, not forcing its presence, but reflecting on those who have been patient or things that took a long time to create. Speeding up the lifecycles of certain processes could damage the beauty waiting to be born. Patience walks hand in hand with energy and wisdom, knowing where I can positively shape and influence an outcome, and where I’m building sandcastles, crossing my fingers and holding my breath that the next wave won’t demolish futile efforts. These aren’t innate virtues, but ingredients I’m experimenting with to find what’s flavorful enough to satiate, and what’s bitter to perpetuate craving.

Poet, philosopher, and cancer survivor Mark Nepo says, “To be broken is no reason to see all things as broken.” Joy is a beautiful heart quality when I’m perceiving the glass as half empty. When I sense joy is missing, I picture children on a treasure hunt or playing hide and seek. Their sheer curiosity and effervescent enthusiasm inspire me to intentionally look for connection, what is strong enough to penetrate parts of me that still feel broken, as if to say, “Here’s a sprinkle of stars connecting the dots to a constellation of healing you cannot see, but feel. Don’t give up just yet.”
With neutral moments, it’s helpful to notice when I’m checking out. What am I wanting from an alternate reality that isn’t here? Why? How is this reality providing the sustenance I seek? If not, am I seeing clearly?

Perhaps the greatest ally on this path is faith asking me to ground in the groundless, knowing that the tectonic plates beneath my feet are always shifting. Sometimes it feels like I’m walking on solid ground or sinking in quicksand. Both are illusions created by the magic show of wanting this and not liking that. When I am less hypnotized by what’s pleasant, recognizing the unwrapped potential gift in what’s unpleasant, and doing my best to stay awake in what’s neutral, the present moment is not only acceptable, but preferred.

It’s where I will meditate and make love, practice medicine and maternal presence for all, embody and exchange elemental energy in hiking, yoga, and Qigong, sensing stagnation and free flow. It’s where I’ll write with invisible ink because I don’t own the words I’ll soon forget, where I’ll sing for all those who can’t hear the music. I’ll embrace this design, knowing that a kaleidoscope turn will reconfigure the pattern into something I no longer recognize, starting again with the question, “Is this pleasant, unpleasant, or neutral?”.
 
Present moment, wonderful moment. It’s where ultimate peace, freedom, and contentment reside. May this practice, understanding, and reflection be of service to all those who have influenced this journey and beyond…

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.​

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.​

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.)

Go ahead. Fall into that hole. We all do, sometimes repeatedly. Walk the path, right over the leaves and sticks that hide the ditch, false ground made of desire, aversion, delusion.

It’s cold down there, darkness all around you, walls closing in. There’s no room to move, to breathe. How did you get here?

Suddenly, that shiny object of desire, this other place that promised paradise when you were averse to Here, the delusion of something better, feels isolating. It’s not so special anymore.

What if cittabhavana is possible, the luminous nature of mindheart unclouded by mental defilements? Is it worth climbing out of the ditch to walk with awareness, to celebrate the transition from ignorance to freedom?

I don’t care if you fell. I’ve fallen, too. I’m so done with hiding in that pit. I want to feel sunlight on my face, rain washing away old perceptions of self.

Reflecting on the trench’s discomfort and what supported the way out, let’s catch glimpses of cittabhavana, our capacity for clear seeing, beauty, and joy. Let’s walk together.
​
We’ll fall again. Faith is trusting that one of us will discover the hole is a trap, a false refuge, holding a hand out to the other so we both take one step closer to Home.