​​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

At SFO, prior to boarding the plane for Japan, I heard a strange voice. “Don’t believe anything you see or hear. Look and listen for connection. That is all.” 

The voice sounded wise, profound. I’ve learned by now not to question its authenticity or figure out where it came from. In time, I would understand.

*****
​
In Japan, I experienced an explosion of sense pleasures. The rainbow colors and taste offerings at breakfast: wakame seaweed salad with lotus root and sesame dressing, alternating miso, corn, or pumpkin soup, scrambled eggs, choice of croissant, pecan, or cinnamon danish, veggies, and a several tea options. Lunch and dinner would involve savory ramen or udon noodles, crisp, tasty tempura, or a choice of yummy Italian, Mexican, Thai, or Indian cuisines. A few nights I simply had to turn the family down for dinner because my pants grew too tight and my stomach felt like a bowling ball!

After reading the first chapter in Ajahn Sucitto's "Paramis, Ways To Cross Life's Floods" on the four types of floods, I reflected and reframed my experience in Japan. What part of the trip was I not swept away in the flood of sensual pleasures, the flood of becoming (personal identity and time), the flood of views (I’m right, you’re wrong), or the flood of ignorance (not seeing things as they are)?

A few memorable experiences stood out. Standing at a train station in Tokyo waiting for a train bound for Kyoto, I noticed a man with a towel over his head crouching on the ground near his briefcase, eyelids closed with the weight of possible illness or job stress. This heart-mind began to practice on the spot Tonglen for him.

At Entokuin temple in Kyoto, I experienced the division of self and other melting into the green tea, the tea room structure, and the gardens around us. I didn’t even know the woman performing the tea ceremony, but in that moment, she was mother, daughter, sister, partner, friend, the soil underneath us, the breath between us.
​

*****
​
“Don’t believe anything you see or hear. Look and listen for connection. That is all.” 

Their is nothing wrong with enjoying sense pleasures, wanting to be someone, or having a certain view. Suffering arises when these floods lead to unwholesome disconnection instead of wholesome connection. 
​
I may forget the smell and taste of certain foods, how certain sights looked or felt, but the man at the station, the woman performing the tea ceremony, the victims of the A-bomb at Hiroshima, will stay in this heart-mind long after the body is gone.

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.

With Christmas just around the corner, a question I’m often asked is, “Are you ready for the holidays?". Listening to others’ plans, I hear the following questions beneath this question. “Are the Christmas lights and stockings up? Is the tree dressed in its finest, proud of the presents below it? Will there be gingerbread baking in the oven, along with a perfectly planned holiday meal? Does the family look happy in the Christmas card photos? If not, should you take another picture?”

Though I appreciate the genuine warmth and curiosity behind this question, I can’t help but wonder. How long did you stand in line at the mall, how much did you spend online to get the last version of the latest (fill in the blank) so he or she can unwrap happiness? The tree sure looks pretty, but did you ever stop to appreciate its natural beauty out in the wild? Does it bother you that it’s dying, that it cannot live off artificial lights, that it might miss the exchange of carbon dioxide for oxygen? Will you taste and enjoy the food you are about to prepare? Or is it all for show? What if someone isn’t smiling in the picture, the lighting is off, or you look older than you should? Is it still ok to send the cards out?

Reflecting on generosity, the question for me isn’t how much, but why. It’s not how much money I spend, the time it takes to cook, bake, or make something, but why I am giving it. What is my intention? Can the one receiving the gift feel my care? How well do I know them? What do I want them to know about me?

Tomorrow may never come. One day you and I will both die. This is for certain. It is only a matter of when. We don’t need a terminal diagnosis to wake up to this truth.

I want to know how it is for you. I want you to know how it is for me. This presence is the greatest present I could ever give or receive.

(This post may impact you negatively. Please know that I am not against holiday traditions, but questioning their authenticity. The invitation is to look beneath the surface of appearances and connect from the heart.
​
May you and yours celebrate Christmas joyfully.  May you be happy, warm, and safe. May you experience a deep and profound sense of peace.)
​

​She shares some apprehension she’s feeling about an upcoming math test. I try to listen and let her know the final grade doesn’t matter. What matters most is her preparation for the test. If she comes back with a D, then it’s important to reflect on how this happened, and ultimately connect with us (her parents) for support and guidance.

Before I can complete my thoughts and communicate them with our daughter, my husband interrupts with his point of view. Suddenly, I lose track of where I am and what I’m doing, and feel waves of anger and hurt rise and fall in succession with no safe harbor to break against. It’s tempting to redirect this internal discomfort towards him, but I know from past experience it will only increase the height, force, and impact of the waves. I say nothing.

After the waves have surrendered to a gentle, rhythmic ebb and flow, curious and ready to connect with the shores of my husband’s experience (and share my own), I check in with him. There is a willingness to recede if he isn’t ready. The conversation flows well, and it feels as if two islands have made conscious contact through the wisdom in waves.

*****

​My dear friend from college and I are sharing a room at a hotel for a medical conference. She needs to leave early one morning to drive back home for her son’s soccer game. I’m awake before her alarm goes off in worried anticipation of how this will affect my sleep. It’s not her fault.

I immediately notice the jackhammer sensations in my temples and throbbing behind my eyes. I try to go back to sleep and manage to rest a few hours before getting up. But the damn tension headache is still there! Infusing the breath with kindness, respect, and forgiveness for a mind that generates anxious thoughts and joyful ones, I gently bathe the pounding sensations in loving awareness and even massage them physically. The pulsations are still there, but I am no longer angry, surprised, or disappointed.

*****

​Wise effort isn’t about having every conversation go well, or sleeping peacefully each night (though I still have a secret attachment to these outcomes:) It’s about weaving my wholesome intentions into the fabric of a larger universal design I cannot see. I need to trust that more and more of the design will be revealed when I am ready to learn and understand.
​
Wise effort is also supported by intentionally taking in the good. Psychologist, author, and teacher Rick Hanson says, “In effect, the brain is like Velcro for negative experiences, but Teflon for positive ones. That shades “implicit memory” – your underlying expectations, beliefs, action strategies, and mood – in an increasingly negative direction.”  It’s important to balance the negativity bias with joy. Here are some of Dr. Hanson’s suggestions on how to do this.
 
May we weave our wise efforts into the universal fabric of life, detaching from outcome as best as we can. May we incline our minds towards wholesome states of being and loving one another.
​
Thank you, Dear Ones in my life for being my greatest teachers!

The sunny side of the heart
is where we all want to live,
avoiding the shadow at any cost,
the chill of loss and loneliness
that lingers like thick fog.

What if true wealth
is not in the address
or the ratio of good to bad,
but the coin in your pocket,
with heads for joy
and tails for compassion?

May compassion transform pain
into the possibility of freedom,
understanding that a moment’s
richness was never dependent
on an external sun.
 
It’s the 7th straight day of waking up with a headache and some heartburn. What the hell is going on? Am I sleeping enough? Am I eating too much? Maybe it’s something on the taboo list. Too much chocolate? Am I worried about something? I thought the homeopathic remedy was working. Maybe I need another dose. What’s wrong with me???

As a physician, it’s easy for me to quickly analyze symptoms, form hypotheses for possible causes, and rule out conditions that don’t fit the diagnosis of what I am experiencing. It’s how I was trained. Western medicine is great for this kind of flawless, clear cut analysis. But is it so flawless and clear cut? And does this help a human like me with real fear and personal judgements about what’s going on?

In working with patients, I’m finding that astute clinical acumen is not as important as the ability to listen and appreciate their stories. A patient naturally wants an accurate diagnosis and therapy that will help them feel better. But the fears they share, the self-judgements that add layers to their suffering, aren’t easily alleviated with a quick prescription.

As humans, we desire security, satiety, sanity (and so much more). We want to live on the sunny side of the heart, avoiding illness, aging, loss, all dissatisfaction at any cost. I am no exception. I’d rather wake up with a clear head and belly ready to digest anything that comes my way with ease.

The thinking mind is helpful if it’s willing to ask wise discerning questions with curiosity and kindness, patient for the answers that come. It’s not helpful when the mind acts like a merciless lawyer interrogating me on the witness stand for a crime I didn’t commit.
 
What if the true wealth of this world, this life is not in the address of where you’d like to live, who you should be, or the ratio of good to bad moments? What if the coin in your pocket has joy on one side and compassion on the other side? Joy typically isn’t a problem for most of us. It’s the shadow side, the challenges in our lives that ask for compassionate attention.

We crave for things to be a certain way, cling to certain ideals. When we get what we don’t want, or push away things as they are, the heart space is filled with struggle. Only compassion can transform this pain into freedom. We don’t have to like what is happening. We do need to love the life that is being affected by the struggle. When we understand that a moment’s richness is never dependent on an external promise of happiness, we begin to trust our internal capacity to simply bear witness.

*****

It’s the 7th straight day of waking up with a headache and some heartburn. What the hell is going on? Before I pop an Advil or Zantac to prematurely block the inquiry, I sit still. Question marks and exclamation points float like balloons through this sky mind. Placing a hand on my heart, I breathe till the breath is not so constricted by fear and the judgments that follow. I feel compassionate presence growing stronger.

Though I’d rather celebrate a moment of pure joy, the realization slowly comes like a good friend tapping my shoulder to point out something I’ve missed. Among the question marks and exclamation points, images of Padmapani and lotus hearts begin to emerge.

*****

When our thoughts are stuck on the spin cycle of Samsara, we can press the pause button and use a different washer to purify these thoughts. Before we place the laundry coin in, we can notice how compassion and joy are two sides of the same coin, this vast heart that has space for it all. Welcome or not, each moment has the potential for full engagement, because of the coin in your pocket.

(Note: This reflection is not meant to minimize or gloss over the intense suffering that comes with chronic illness, loss, social unrest, environmental degradation, etc. It’s an invitation to explore the smaller inconveniences in life, to cultivate a compassionate presence that stays when the larger waves hit, to appreciate the flip of compassion to joy, and back to compassion, depending on what each moment requires. May the benefits of this inquiry be shared by all beings everywhere without exception.

​If this reflection is not helpful, let it pass in the sky mind till images that are useful to you appear. May your spiritual thirst for freedom lead you to your own fountain of meaning.)
​

​skyfire rising 
from cobalt waters
the day not yet defined
dancing into possibility 
 
My favorite time of day is sunrise when skyfire rises from cobalt waters, when the day is not yet defined.  Crossing Dumbarton Bridge some days to work, the chatterbox mind pauses for a few moments as the idea of 'I' melts into the majestic scene before me.

If I could, I would find some place to park, bust out a yoga mat for some sun salutations, and praise the sun for its warmth and light.  All ideas of mother, wife, daughter, sister, healer, poet, meditator, would burn in skyfire as a new Phoenix rises from the ashes of old selves.

****

​The following art piece was created from a dream I recently had about a whale.  The whale frequently breached, reminding me that even though I have so much subconscious anxiety, I am gently being guided by a mysterious, benevolent force in my conscious life.  I don't have to know the exact details of the future.  I can rest in the present moment.  

****

From the moment we wake up, most of us speed through our day with little time to pause.  What would it be like to shed all preconceived notions of who we are, to dance into the possibility of wonder, to believe that life gives us exactly what we need in each moment?

****

After a long day at work, I'm looking forward to dinner with my family at a favorite Mexican restaurant.  I'm not ready for the motorcyclist who ploughs into my rear end.  As I step out of the car, the guy is lying on the ground in a daze next to a heap of twisted metal.  My immediate reaction is not concern for his wellbeing, but a cold furry that chills me more than the evening temperature.

What the hell is wrong with you???  Can't you see I was clearly at a standstill in front of you?  I just got my car washed.  Now I'm going to have to deal with the headache of insurance reporting, repairs, etc.  I don't have time for this bullshit!!!

Ashamed of my internal reaction, I can't help my thoughts or the physical sensations of feeling stuck in a moment I can't escape.  The peaceful experiences of witnessing the sunrise and creating the glass art seem so far away. We eventually exchange information in the presence of a police officer and he apologizes for the accident.  All I can manage are a few insincere words.  “I hope you are ok.”

Am I gently being guided by a mysterious, benevolent force in my conscious life?  Don't I have to know the exact details of the future? Can I rest in the present moment?  Am I given exactly what I need in each moment?

​

****

Clarissa Pinkola Estes writes, “To display the lantern of soul in shadowy times like these - to be fierce and to show mercy toward others; both are acts of immense bravery and greatest necessity."

I pause and allow the thoughts manifested as anger, fear, and disappointment to run through me like wild stallions.  I forgive them, and ask what would be the exact opposite of scolding naughty children?  Placing a hand on my belly and heart, I picture the injured motorcyclist next to his nonfunctional bike and accept his sincere apology.  I send metta and thank him for the unexpected opportunity to practice mindfulness and compassion.  I even text him to see how he is doing and offer medical advice for his twisted ankle.

****
​
We don't know what each day will bring.  Some experiences will be pleasant while others are clearly unpleasant.  May we create space for them all, dancing into the possibility of love in all its forms, trusting that love always wins.
​

Image courtesy MelGrossArt

​Radiance (Day 6-7)

During a guided meditation, we were invited to send metta to all beings.  Tibetan singing bowls were used to create sound spaciousness, to dissolve the barriers around our bodies and hearts.

I visualized my womb giving birth to all beings, and all beings returning to this womb upon their death.  I thought of the Isil terrorist attack in Paris.  Voices began to emerge.

Allah sees us.
Can you see us?
If you really saw us,
would you still harm us?

I thought of animal poachers and mindless construction in protected natural settings.

Our mother sees us.
Can you see us?
If you really saw us,
would you still harm us?

I thought of irritable beings in my life.  One by one, I thought of someone who might love them: a spiritual being, a relative, a friend.

The Beloved sees me.
Can you see me?
If you really saw me,
would you still harm me?

I may not love everyone.  Even the contemplation is a tall order.  Forgiveness does not condone acts of harm.  We can still work to protect all life (including our own) through skillful means.  Forgiveness is an invitation to lay down our weapons, to dissolve the protective armoring encasing our hearts.

Lay down your weapons.
I didn’t come here to fight.
I came to witness the unveiling of your heart,
A radiant jewel reflecting your True Nature-
The nature of all life.
The heart’s radiance is its own protection.
​
May we connect with our hearts.  May we rest in this place.