​In meditation, it's possible to let the limiting sense of self settle, and allow the larger space of self to emerge.
​

​Pain can be a pathway to suffering, or a poetic prescription for healing.

Restlessness, Metta, and True Nature

There’s a restlessness inside me--
checking the phone, the weather
checking for missed emails, calls, texts.
Am I ok as I am?
Are others ok because of me?
When did the external funhouse
mirrors get so distorted?
When did abandonment
become the only story?

May I be patient with anxiety and restlessness,
and trust something precious beyond this.

A few Winecup clarkias stand out
amidst Pacific poison oak.
Beautiful growth is possible anywhere.
The trill of a red-winged blackbird
invites joyful sound meditation.
Magnetic Mama Earth guides footsteps
to avoid stepping on western
whiptails activated by amygdalas.
So I’m not the only one!
A summer breeze blows
the breath inside out.

Am I ok?
​
There is no one left to answer…


No Timeline for Love

I don’t need to fill my heart completely 
before I can show you love.
I just need to see the thorn,
feel the sharp point against softness,
wrap the wound in tenderness
as scar tissue learns to love
in its own healing time.


Soon

These days of cutting okra and long
beans together will soon be over--
hearing knives slice through dark
green flesh at different rhythms,
watching the way your air pods
hang from your ears
as a slight smile crosses your lips,
wondering what you’re listening to
and if you’ll still like that song in college,
or who you will choose to love.

Or the way I turn to you
with partially cut vegetables
that you will chop into smaller pieces
the way your mother did back in India,
breaking down larger pieces of life,
seasoning with spices and cooking slowly
into food the family can easily digest
until arthritic hands can no longer chop
or vision fades into final darkness.
​
Soon all I will have are these words,
and memories of three generations
cutting okra and long beans
side by side by side.
What used to seem so mundane
now feels like sacred ground.
Please help me to be here!
Soon we will all be gone.


Emptiness

emptiness
is fullness
still healing
till she can let go
completely


Receiving
​
everything
is a gift
unwrapped slowly
by your perception

For years I've gone on retreat, escaping family and home to find freedom. Little did I realize that freedom can be found within my own home, that refuge in a Brahmavihara happens wherever, whenever the heart is willing to feel, and surround all experience in its embrace.

Deep gratitude to Brian Lesage and Sangha for this sacred, unique, configuration, to family and friends for being there with food, hugs, kisses, laughter, and conversation when needed, to colleagues for covering my time off from work, and patients for trusting this practice to widen/deepen my understanding of compassionate care.

If you could only take a few people, a few things with you on a long trip, who or what would you take? I’m not talking about some exotic trip away from home, but the trip that you live every day from the moment your eyes open to the minute you fall asleep, and the cycle you repeat each day till you breathe your last breath.

What really matters to you? Who or what do you trust to carry you to the destination you seek? Do you travel with rigidity, considering the journey a failure if you don’t land where expected? Or do you course correct with wisdom and still love yourself when you miss the mark?

I’ve contemplated these questions for some time. Blown around by the eight worldly winds: pleasure/pain, gain/loss, success/failure, praise/blame, I’m tired of packing people and things along for the ride that shake things up unnecessarily without purpose.

 
El Capitan

sitting like a mountain
massive in this moment
no thoughts can blow me away

 
So I made a list of what supports faith in the journey, and what hinders it.
​

Supports to Faith:

- meditation (simple healing breath, heart-mind framing each moment in wisdom and care)
-pausing, waiting for what’s shaken up to settle so that speech, action can be more skillful
-Dhamma mentoring, classes, retreats, talks
-spiritual friends who mirror my True Nature
-family and patient challenges reminding me of Bodhisattva vow (on your way enlightenment, will you take us with you?)
-seeing how I’ve met challenging situations before, inspires trust that I can do it again
-Nature, unconditional loving Mother who nurtures calm, beauty, patience, wisdom, understanding, and trust
-writing strengthens the whispers of inner champion who takes inner critics’s concerns and transforms them into healing, wise words
-inspiration from music, movies, reading
-heart connections with family, friends, patients, clients, strangers
-embodied, grounded presence
-deleting Facebook account (cultivating contentment, simplicity over comparing mind, creating space in my calendar, my life)…ok, so I’m back on Facebook, and I need to remember aspiration over expectation
 
 
Hindrances to Faith:
 
-physical, emotional pain
-losing someone or something dear
-when something breaks, looks unappealing, increases aversion
-disagreement, disconnection with those I am close to
-prolonged exposure to bad news
-relying on astrology for good news, things to look forward to
-scattered, thinking presence
-alarm going off in the middle of a disturbing dream
-too many choices, not trusting the future
 
Practicing with these contemplations this month, I’ve discovered a few things. I can cultivate an unconditional love for this body-heart-mind, no matter how it is feeling. Despite a medical system that requires so many competing components for attention, I can connect with patient stories and not just make it to the end of the day disconnected and depleted. The allure of technology does not need to eclipse the possibility of contentment found in each moment.
 
And, I’m still a being doing her best to course correct with wisdom, still learning to love herself when she misses the mark. May the labyrinth of life allow for a natural spiraling in, then circumambulating out, never knowing if the center is reached and still carrying its intention with each step.
 

The sound of bristles against gums and bone.
Water cascading from the faucet and gurgling in my mouth.
Mint flavored tooth paste awakening taste buds
as soles of the feet plug into Mama Earth.

This is enough entertainment--
a simple sense opening of gratitude
for teeth that masticate complex textures
into bite sized bits I can swallow.
 
When there is mindful presence for simple things like brushing my teeth, life is more manageable. It’s so much easier to unitask than multitask when there is appreciation for the task at hand.

There are teachings on liberation called disenchantment (nibbida) and dispassion (viraga). If I can see the ways in which I’m caught in certain traps of dissatisfaction, there’s hope in slowly letting go without sustaining rope burn.

I can’t force or will myself to let go. I need to understand the stories I’m believing, the enchantment of the false refuge. What does it offer? Is it lasting? I also need to trust that relinquishing it will offer something more satisfying in its place.

Let’s take the number of times I check my phone in a day. Why? As I investigate all the reasons— for connection, comfort, safety, information, entertainment, and wellbeing, I wonder what would happen if I checked it less often.

Could this moment give me what I have been chasing elsewhere? Could it offer something more precious?

“It’s the simple things in life that are the most extraordinary.” (Paulo Coelho)
​
May an embodied understanding of this truth be realized a bit more each day.

The Guest Room

It’s hard to see the chips and stains on walls
where visitors are supposed to feel welcome,
at home in aesthetically pleasing surroundings.
Each time I walk in, the furniture is rearranged
into a configuration that tells me my in-laws
are staying longer than I anticipated.
The scratches, the dents, the torn bedsheet corner
is so unpleasant, just like the hard wooden slats
you are placing over the mattress so your father
feels more comfortable sleeping on the bed
than on the floor. Why does this bother me so much?
Is it because my in-laws are making their mark
in our home, or because they are burrowing into the room,
into my being in ways I do not yet understand?
What if the chips and stains, scratches and dents,
the torn bedsheet corner are all signs of life,
not a sterile room staged for a home
I was not meant to live in?
Maybe the guest room is their room,
the heart space their space to teach me
about inviting more vulnerability in.

​*****

exhale completely
blow out the candle
before the next wish
the next year

this poem
still conceptual
let it go
let it go
 
Exhaling, blowing out a metaphoric candle after a recent birthday, I’m already thinking of the next email, the next thing on the to do list, the next wish, the next year.

It’s EXHAUSTING!

It’s why I love meditation so much, the free gift that no one else can give me, sacred time I give back to myself for all the ways I’ve missed out on my own life.

Exhaling completely, I’m surprised by how much space there is internally, the capacity to hold whatever is next without betraying this moment. For 20-30 minutes a day, I don’t need to be anyone, do anything, go anywhere. It’s a conscious letting go, dying with each outbreath to be reborn again and again with a little less dust in the eyes and a stronger capacity to love.
I still hold on to many things, including these words, still conceptual, like directions to a place I already am.
​
What would it mean to let go, to let life come to me rather than chasing it?

The Earth holds me. When I felt disconnected, the Earth spiritually re-parented me into a profound sense of belonging. Her trees taught me how to silently release and receive through Tonglen practice. Her oceans accepted each and every saltwater river of tears. Her creatures cautiously eyed me with curiosity, wondering if I would threaten their existence, or bow in reverence.

Today, I had the privilege of witnessing a ceremony welcoming a beloved and respected Dhamma teacher to a retreat center’s counsel. She eloquently expressed the connection between slavery, colonialism, and the exploitation of land, how this same land can heal us, invite us into  belonging and connection  beyond personal wealth, status, and ignorance.

As photographs were shared of the land around the retreat center, one picture spoke louder than the rest.
​

Timeless

Sit still. Isn’t it exhausting
to be someone else,
to visit places in your head
that promise happiness but can’t
convince your heart to stay?

Peace doesn’t arrive
when you’re on vacation.
Sometimes it’s during a pandemic
when you’re stuck at home,
closing your eyes and waiting--
​
suspended in the darkness
of not knowing
between sunset and moonrise,
a horizon of questions
loving presence will answer.
​

Denying Death

We attend my grandmother’s funeral virtually,
watch the priest and my uncle
perform the last rites and rituals
purifying her body with ghee and rice
for a peaceful soul release.
The screen ceremony feels surreal.

Children and grandchildren speak of Ba’s cooking,
her generosity, her home, her heart
that always flowed in the direction of love
as great grandchildren lay rose petals
over her body, palms pressed in
Jai Sri Krishna they are learning.

I keep thinking that Ba is just sleeping.
At any moment she will wake up and ask,
Tamē manē kēma rāndhatā chō?
Jō tamanē bhūkha lāgī hōya
tō manē tamārā māṭē rasō'i karavā dō.**

Beside me grief flows in violent waves
through my mother, tears unable to relieve
the pressure that such loss builds inside.
As we watch the coffin pushed into the furnace,
a whimpering sound escapes from somewhere
I don’t recognize, an ancient, primal call.

I see the faces, feel the bodies
of everyone I love, including myself
burning back to bones, to dust,
leaving this world with nothing
except the lives we touch,
and the peace we can leave behind.

**Why are you cooking me?
   If you are hungry,
   then let me cook for you.

The Deepest Peace
(inspired by The Deepest Peace by Zenju Earthlyn Manuel)

Drawn to the fuchsia tinged light
reflected in Dumbarton Bay,
I’m moved by the stillness of shorebirds
wading in shallow waters,
waiting for the day to begin.

All meaningful action is born
from this womb of silence.
​
I must also pause, feel
this earth-driven calm within,
before speaking and acting,
before spreading my wings,
checking in with the wind
when it’s best to take flight.

Dear One, I never promised you
a pain or worry free life.
I did promise to always receive your
questions with curiosity and interest--
watching them grow like saplings
from mother to grandmother answers
just as the oaks in this preserve do.

Roots grow deep in underground
wisdom that is not always apparent.
Branches stretch far and wide 
towards a loving sun,
towards other tree beings
living in darkness and light.

Keep visiting this place,
even in the middle of winter 
when all looks lifeless 
and feels hopeless--
when a dormant heart seed
inside its protective shell 
is whispered to life
with breath and faith
in these words.

​cobalt violet sunrise
over the bay
infusing the heart
with a quiet joy
priming it to meet
the day’s suffering
with peaceful presence
reflecting back hope
when sunrises
are forgotten