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.

I see you Mara, conjuring dreams
of no control and not belonging,
replaying old classics in movie mind
as if they are the whole story.

What if I lay on my back, fully
surrendered to what’s playing
without needing to control content,
breathing into the body’s story?

May I trust the heart’s compassion
to support new stories or resilience-
loving presence a cocoon
nurturing metamorphosis within.
​

On the healing journey, the tendency is to resist pain and prefer a cure. I am no different. If there is an antibiotic that can treat an infection, a cast that can mold broken bones, a treatment that can offer relief, then I will vigorously support it.

And there are some things that don’t have immediate answers, remedies that can’t readily alleviate suffering. For sacroiliac and gluteal muscle discomfort, I’ve tried yoga, Qigong, Ayurveda , homeopathy, acupuncture, medication, chiropractic care, physical therapy, nature therapy, meditation, writing, dream interpretation, talk therapy, and mostly recently art therapy.

After typing out this list, whispers of judgment arise. Maybe if you weren’t complacently sitting around and doing more research for the perfect therapy, your ass wouldn’t hurt so much. Or maybe you aren’t spending enough time with one modality, expecting a miracle and instant gratification.

The whispers are met with smiles. Understanding the yearning for relief from suffering, the heart patiently responds. Dear One, you don’t need to try so hard. Surrender the resistance as best as you can. I will never leave you.

Surrender does not mean abandoning the healing modalities that are helping. It means not placing the burden of expectation on any one modality to produce a definitive answer, a cure.

​As a family physician, it’s a privilege to support a patient’s wellbeing. When there is a reliable treatment for dis-ease, we both appreciate the gifts of modern medicine. It’s harder to work with a diagnosis that is uncertain, it’s treatment even more elusive.

As I learn to cultivate loving presence and stay with this body, may it support healing presence with others.

It’s the transitional state that is often overlooked and dismissed.

There is a key that I’ve found through these practices, unlocking mysteries, answering questions I’ve had over lifetimes. I’m so afraid to lose this key, guarding it sometimes to the detriment of my relationships with loved ones. What if I forget? What if I’m not perfect in practices, in life? Will I spiral down into the womb of bloody postpartum darkness where thoughts threaten connection and unwanted emotions signal abandonment? Who will love me then? Will I be strong enough alone? Can I remember these practices without the key?

Menstrual cycles are irregular. Moods shift like unpredictable weather patterns. Gripping the key tightly- identities of a meditator, writer, physician, healer, mother, wife, daughter, family member and friend, I don’t want the life I’ve so carefully constructed over the last fourteen years to change. If it does, I only want it to change for the better (whatever that means).

In meditation this morning, I heard the following words. Awareness that this practice is not about perfection or self-improvement, but trusting the heart without expectation. What if I toss the key into the ocean, allow the waves to swallow this house of sand?

Loving awareness is everywhere. It’s time to let go of the key…

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)
 

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😉!)

I’m scared, terrified of these feelings falling like autumn leaves at random beyond my control – littering conversations, disturbing sleep, ruining peaceful meditations. They remind me of a season fourteen years ago when a beautiful baby girl was born, when a mother went underground to follow the roots of her family tree.

So much doubt. So many judgements. What’s wrong with you, Kaveri. Why can’t you get your shit together? Are we really back here after thirteen years of practice? Haven’t we progressed, even a little?

Perimenopause. Unpredictable periods. Emotional storms. Is the external weather trying to taunt me, or mirror my internal state with compassion and wisdom? I’m different now. Not better. Not worse. Just different.

The autumn leaves are not dirty or unwelcome. Yes, they are dying. They aren’t the same as shiny spring leaves green with new life, abundant with chlorophyllic possibility. Still, they are wise messengers decomposing into earth to fertilize the underground roots of this family tree.

When I pushed forward, I was whirled about. When I stayed in place, I sank. And so I crossed over the flood without pushing forward, without staying in place. (SN 1.1 Ogha-tarana Sutta: Crossing over the Flood)

Fourteen years ago when I pushed forward, I was whirled about. When I tried to cross the flood of emotions without acknowledgment, the resistance reinforced their presence. Please listen to us. Stop pushing forward, pushing us away. We want you to know something.

When I stayed in place, I sank, believing the emotions without understanding the need beneath them. I blamed others for their insensitivity and misunderstanding. I judged myself for being one depressed and anxious mess.

And so I cross through the flood by bowing to the emotions, listening to the sensations in my body and kind whispers in my ear. Thank you for listening with honesty, compassion, patience, and trust, for recognizing the creative growth potential in us, for honoring the season’s rhythm of change.

And so I cross through the flood without staying in place, understanding the need for embodied loving presence and connection to myself for wise and loving connection with others.

Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn't matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come , come. (Rumi)

I have broken my vows a thousand times. I have judged and harmed in ways that seem unforgivable. As a wanderer, worshiper, and lover of leaving this moment because the past still haunts me and the future is unpredictable, it doesn’t matter.

This heart-mind is no longer a caravan of despair. I will come, even if I have broken my vows a thousand times. Perimenopause is not punishment for the past or the promise of a perilous future. It’s a chance in this very moment to begin again.
​
Come, yet again, come, come.