(Inspired by “Small Kindness” by Danusha Laméris)


It’s relatively quiet on the hike-
minimal sounds of birds chirping,
lizards scurrying across the path,
footsteps against dry leaves and dirt.
The few hikers I meet have
facial expressions masked.
I can’t tell if they are smiling,
frowning, or the lips are flat-lined.
Out of nowhere comes this silent scream.
When will this all end? 
When can I see your face again?
Like a mother holding the frustrations 
of an impatient child,
I try and open to what’s here-
uncertainty, the wish for things to be different.
All I can do is thank a hiker
for stepping aside so I can pass,
wave to another hiker,
Enjoy your hike.
When I can’t see your face,
words and hand gestures 
will have to be enough.
I still miss the smiles.

It’s noontime. I’ve just finished seeing my last patient of the morning. As I head back to my workstation and pick up my phone, there are some texts from the Dasher who delivered food I ordered from Door Dash. I notice the last few texts are pictures.

There’s a white bag of food with a receipt attached standing against the backdrop of a door with a sign on it, one of the many generic gray doors that lead into buildings 1, 2, and 3 on the Fremont campus. The last text reads, “Your order was dropped off. Please refer to this photo your Dasher provided to see where it was left.”

In a blind fury, I rush outside to try and find the food, completely ignoring the picture’s details, other texts and calls explaining how the Dasher tried to reach me, where and how long he was waiting. I also suddenly develop selective amnesia for the disclaimer Door Dash gives about food being left at the door to protect Dashers from COVID exposure.

Circling the buildings like a hungry hawk ready descend on its prey, I’m not only interested in finding my food, but also the Dasher to instruct him on how to do his job. I call him and arrogantly explain my position as a busy physician seeing patients, how he should have waited, how leaving the bag where he did is completely unacceptable. He agrees to drive back to where he left the bag, and calmly suggests I take a look at the picture and instructions he left while he is on his way.

Ironically, we simultaneously arrive at the same door where he left the food. Except there is no white bag. He doesn’t know what to say. I continue to sing the same song of entitlement and how this is all a big inconvenience for me, oblivious to what he must be thinking or feeling. As he leaves, all I can think of is the lunch hour quickly being compressed into 45 minutes, 40 minutes, how I will have to drive out for food, a missed opportunity to catch up on work.

On my way back up to the office, I run into my medical assistant who tells me that a nurse saw the bag and delivered it to me. Taking a seat at my desk, I take a few bites and reflect back on the time between picking up my phone, seeing the texts and sitting here now.

In my contracted state, I conveniently forgot to slow down, to breathe, to see the larger picture. Sure I was hungry and concerned that the food I purchased was not easily accessible, but I completely dismissed the Dasher’s experience (his attempts to communicate the details of where he left the food, his unfamiliarity with the Fremont campus, possible health concerns, other orders he might be trying to fulfill).

 
****
 

Power and privilege can be dangerous when we see only what we want to see, the 10% of the iceberg that seems obvious to us, when we only hear our version of the story. We don’t realize how accepting our narrative as the only truth can cause unnecessary harm. This is where slowing down, taking a few deep breaths, getting curious, and extending compassion beyond one’s own know-it-all mind, prized body, and small heart helps to include others in the circle of awareness.
 
Power and privilege can also detrimentally impact collaboration and delivery of healthcare. False assumptions and ensuing judgments of a patient, care team member, or any employee of Sutter Health  by race, ethnicity, citizenship, religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, age, weight, socio-economic status, education level, job status, etc. to the point where is impairs their safety and wellbeing, are the damaging results of implicit bias.

How you choose to explore the 90% of the iceberg that’s submerged, the dark cold places shaped by causes and conditions of cultural upbringing, societal influence, etc., is up to you. Where do you wish to inspire meaningful change in your sphere of influence? There are plenty of ways to melt the ignorance and a solid, separate sense of self. This writing is an invitation to find out how you wish to proceed in expanding the circle of awareness.


****


Looking out the office window at the trees, I take in oxygen and release the carbon dioxide confusion I’ve been carrying for the last half hour. Then, I breath in the air of this Dasher’s reality, and breath out a compassionate apology and gratitude for the food in front of me. I pick up my phone to text him.
​
Thank you. The food found its way to me. Forgive me if I looked, sounded angry. Maybe you are new to this facility and want to limit your exposure. Please stay safe. (prayer hands emoji)
 

The Dakini Speaks
© Jennifer Welwood

My friends, let’s grow up.
Let’s stop pretending we don’t know the deal here.
Or if we truly haven’t noticed, let’s wake up and notice.
Look: Everything that can be lost, will be lost.
It’s simple — how could we have missed it for so long?
Let’s grieve our losses fully, like ripe human beings,
But please, let’s not be so shocked by them.
Let’s not act so betrayed,
As though life had broken her secret promise to us.
Impermanence is life’s only promise to us,
And she keeps it with ruthless impeccability.
To a child she seems cruel, but she is only wild,
And her compassion exquisitely precise:
Brilliantly penetrating, luminous with truth,
She strips away the unreal to show us the real.
This is the true ride — let’s give ourselves to it!
Let’s stop making deals for a safe passage:
There isn’t one anyway, and the cost is too high.
We are not children anymore.
The true human adult gives everything for what cannot be lost.
Let’s dance the wild dance of no hope!
 

 
When I first heard this poem some years ago, it sounded bleak. Dance the wild dance of no hope? With a passion for beauty, creativity, singing, dancing, and music, I simply could not relate. I also couldn’t resolve the spiritual and creative parts of me that sometimes felt as odds with one another. Dhamma retreats that involved sitting, walking meditation, then more sitting and walking mediation for hours and days on end felt dry, as if something were missing. (Maybe this is why I insist on writing, sometimes singing and dancing on silent retreats when no one is looking or listening.)

Now, change and uncertainty have taken center stage. The Dakini speaks, and I am listening. Have I truly missed the deal here? I’m starting to wake up and notice. For me, uncertainty is so unsettling because of my patterns of control. Though I’ve told others this pandemic is not a sprint, but a marathon, I find myself at many imaginary finish lines hoping the race is over.

I want to travel, eat at my favorite restaurants, go on retreat, get together with family and friends, see patients in person, have my hair cut and colored, and not virtually! And I recognize these are minor inconveniences to have, as many others are suffering in real and devastating ways.

So how can I not act so shocked and grieve certain losses fully like a ripe human being? It helps to acknowledge these “losses” with honesty, without spiritually bypassing the true feelings of impatience, anger, sadness, fear, and overwhelm that may be present. The ripeness includes a clear, wise mind asking, “What’s happening now?” and a spacious, compassionate heart asking, “How am I relating to this?”

It’s important for me to remember that this practice is not perfect. Judgements and resistance still arise. All my habitual patterns of control (blaming others, blaming myself, food and retail therapy, meticulously cleaning, strategically planning) are implemented one after the other in the name of protecting the self. And so many things influence the fight-flight-freeze reaction and the tend and befriend response: physical, emotional, economic stability, practice history, etc.

Most days, I find that I am somewhere in between both physiologic processes. A quivering belly, rapid heart rate, and tense muscles are met with earth connection, warm breath, and fluid understanding of not acting so betrayed. Impermanence is life’s only promise, so what COVID-19 is teaching me is not new. I was just in denial.

Just as Toto pulled back the curtain to the great Wizard of Oz revealing an ordinary man, can I strip away the unreal and live with the real, giving myself completely to this one true ride? I’m tired of making deals for a safe passage. If there isn’t one, and the cost is too high, what does it mean to dance the wild dance of no hope? If there is no ground, what can I stand with, stand for?

I don’t have perfect, complete answers to these questions. Like many of you reading this, I’m still sensing my way into ‘answers’, trying to be as patient, honest, compassionate, and open as I can be along the way. Two words, concepts arising in meditation and life practice over the last few days are wholeness and goodness. Despite feeling broken, imperfect, and disconnected at times, I recognize that my purpose as a physician, meditation/movement practitioner, parent, and writer is not to cure everyone, but tap into an energy of healing that happens whenever the heart-mind is truly present and listening. And goodness isn’t a Pollyannish ignorance of the severe and overwhelming destruction caused by this pandemic, but stories of care I’m seeing, experiencing, and hearing about each day.

If impermanence is life’s only promise, then let my response be wholeness, goodness, and care, knowing that it is imperfect. What will your response be?
​
As you sit, stand, walk, and lie down with this ground of uncertainty, what is still true for you? The Buddha said, “Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this is the eternal rule.” May you connect with what is still true for you. May this guide you, support you, nourish you in the days and weeks to come.

(This post was inspired by Sebene Selassie, Sharon Salzberg, and Vesak.)

"Spring Flowers" by Bonnie Bertrand
​(click on image to enlarge)

The breath does not ask why this
body is in the shape that it is.
Like the wind, it kisses all parts 
of the terrain with impartial care.
The body sits, stands, walks, lays down 
always in relation with the Earth,
Her tears falling as spring rain,
our tears falling for the lives we can’t save.
Some days the sun peaks through 
dismal COVID clouds threatening 
to blanket and suffocate us all.
When smiles are masked,
hugs and handshakes forbidden,
the eyes still communicate compassion.
Spring flowers still push through 
cracks of uncertainty 
despite a destiny of decay.
May all that we’ve lost seed the soil
for all that can still be gained,
benevolence and interdependence
standing together, six feet apart 
frantic hearts at the front lines
fighting to protect what never dies.

​

As a front-line family physician, I’m used to offering compassionate care to patients, and listening to the care team at work. I’m used to holding space for meditation and reflective journaling classes, supporting family and friends in ways that feel wholesome.

And sometimes it’s overwhelming. With the recent pandemic, the constant barrage of news, work email updates, protocols constantly changing, and questions, there has been little time to contemplate what’s happening within.

This body is also in greater pain than normal. After several months of physical wellbeing with PT and engaging in movement practices I love (yoga, hiking, walking, Qigong), the body has decided to speak (scream at times). I’m sure it’s contributing to the overwhelm with fear eclipsing the things I usually see and remember.

Over the years, I’ve cultivated a strong lovingkindness and compassion practice to face challenges. But somewhere along the way, I’ve forgotten to pause for fifteen seconds six times a day to really let joy’s sunlight reach all the dark places within me. To help me remember, I joined an Awakening Joy course.

For a few days I was diligent with the practice, opening like a sunflower to moments of gratitude throughout the day. The pain in the sacroiliac joints and gluteal muscles was improving. Yeah, I thought. I’m on the right path!
Then the body screamed. I’m doing the PT daily. I’m trying to take it easy physically. Where am I going wrong??? In a state of despair and overflowing tears, I reached out to people who could help me remember what I was forgetting. The incoming texts/emails of care and support definitely helped me to remember a few things.

1.) I must put my own oxygen mask on first before I can take on the suffering of others. This means meeting my own suffering with compassionate care and asking, What’s needed now? I’m not always in a quite space to listen, so it’s important to take this time when possible, pencil in an appointment for myself, like I did this morning. 

2.) S.O.S.  I heard this acronym through a prerecorded webinar my work offered titled “Managing the Unknown”. When you notice that you are on information overload, and the brain, body and heart cannot take any more, STOP what you are doing. Stop clicking on more news links online, more email. Stop engaging in conversation that is echoing doomsday. Stop immersing yourself in more secondary trauma. OBSERVE the thoughts and feelings within with kindness. If that’s hard, imagine a kind, supportive being/presence with you. Stay here as long as you need to really listen internally. SWITCH to something that is positive and nourishing – a cup of tea, a conversation with a friend, music, a walk, journaling, humor, etc. (I’ve also heard this as  S.T.O.P.: Stop. Take a breath.  Observe thoughts and feelings. Proceed with something nourishing. 

3.) Stay informed so that you have the latest information from the CDC, WHO, your local state, county, and health care professionals AND ask yourself what else you need to hear so that the scales are balanced. It’s easy to listen to statistics, worsening conditions, and conversations around you that accentuate the negative. What do you need to hear that’s positive? Where can you find this? It might be an inspiring quote, book, movie, song, story, prayer, etc. If you are having a hard time looking, ask others! Try this one on:

"My friends, do not lose heart. We were made for these times. Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world will help immensely. It is not given to us to know which acts or by whom, will cause the critical mass to tip toward an enduring good. One of the most calming and powerful actions you can do to intervene in a stormy world is to stand up and show your soul.”  
-Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Jungian psychoanalyst, author of Women Who Run with the Wolves. 

4.) Which brings me to my next point. Be a calm presence where you can be. Today I had the opportunity to speak with a relative overseas, a local business owner, and a stranger while shopping for groceries. The questions that used to sound like massive missiles attacking were surprisingly welcome. The conversations included some of what I am sharing here. If staying calm is not possible (it’s not expected, even for me), then can you be generous in other ways? Can you call someone who is currently quarantined, or check on them in other ways that do not place yourself at risk? Do you have an extra toilet roll, hand sanitizer, can of food that you’re saving for The Apocalypse? Do you know of neighbor you can share this with, someone who is restricted financially, physically, or by some other means?  Generosity cultivates abundance of heart and mind, widens survival of the fittest perspective into one of interdependence. Just be sure to wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water for at least 20 seconds, and don’t share if you’re sick.

5.) Impermanent/Imperfect/Impersonal. Physical pain and global pandemics can feel permanent, imperfect, and personal. It sure feels perpetual, messy, and personal to me right now. But if I take a closer look, there are moments when the body isn’t raging, even parts that feel neutral or pleasant. There are times when corona virus is not the main news infecting body, mind, heart, and spirit. It was not the main news when I dropped my daughter off or picked her up from school, on a mini retreat this morning in sitting and walking meditation, while brushing my teeth or taking a shower. 

It can also help to remember that others are affected by what’s happening, just as you are. Knowing that so many lives have been affected, what can you keep doing regularly to maintain some sense of normalcy? (If you or someone you know has been significantly harmed physically, emotionally, financially, etc. please grieve the way that you need to. ‘Normalcy’ may be the last thing you need to hear/read.) Maybe it’s the way you comb your hair, brush your teeth, sip morning coffee or tea, go for a walk/run, meditate, eat, work, hug/kiss healthy family members, sing, dance, or any number of things you normally do (and are still doing:) Though change is inevitable, it’s healthy to maintain contact with who/what is familiar. It can nurture a sense of safety in times like this.
 
 
 
surrender
to a beating heart
an unsettled belly
a hand on each one
just sensing
just breathing
prana providing companionship
through every future unknown
 
 
This post is not written to negate the true feelings that are here: fear, anger, loneliness, despair, etc. It isn’t a spiritual bypass to a happier place untouched by illness or suffering. (If you know of such a place, let me know!). I needed to sit with all the paralyzing thoughts, feelings, and physical manifestations of them. I will likely be sitting with them for some time. Surrendering to a beating heart and unsettled belly, I placed a hand on each one, just sensing, just breathing, prana providing the companionship that was so desperately needed. I know that this simple act is not enough to heal the world, but it is certainly “mending the part of the world that is within my reach” through every future unknown.
 
May these reflections be of benefit to all beings everywhere without exception.

Bathe all your worries in the sweet syrup breath of metta
Nothing can ever taste bitter this way
Nothing can harm a you that isn’t there 
Citta knows exactly what is needed
Citta can show you the way 
I’ve lived here for so long
And failed to recognize this shelter
The strong structural support
The ability to frame all experience in love 
May the heart hold beauty and terror
In the same loving space
May this be the house of awakening 


There are so many dizzying definitions of happiness. Buy this, go here, have this kind of family and home.

When you get quiet, when the neon lights and the buzz of false advertising fall away, what’s left? Who do you trust? What can you rely on? What brings a lasting sense of contentment, peace? What helps you face the full spectrum of life’s ruthless and benevolent promises?

These questions are not meant to taunt you, but to encourage rest and reflection into this very moment. If you lost everyone and everything you loved, where would you seek shelter?

I’ve chased happiness like an elusive butterfly, believing I could get close enough, freeze-frame it and own it forever. The pursuit of enlightenment has been no different. THIS is the teacher, retreat, program, and/or practice that holds the key to the locked door inside me. Someone else has it. Not me.

What does it mean to take our seats, not just on the metaphoric chair or cushion, but in our lives, with each other, all beings, the Earth, in this moment? Let’s start here. Here is where all the action is, where all the healing takes place.

May you find that key and unlock a little more each day from the inside out.  May fear/outcome-based expectations become heart-based aspirations.

Maybe it’s not enlightenment or bust.

Maybe it’s enlightenment and trying again.