Category: Surrender - Wisdom in Waves

When I Let Go

2/7/2018

When I let go of the need to fit a poem
On the page of public opinion
The words come
When I let go of the need
To know tomorrow
Today gives me the biggest hug
And asks me to stay
When I let go of the need
For you to be my perfect mirror
You reflect my scars
The secret skin therapy to repair
When I let go of the need
To make you understand
You’ll ask me to explain
A conch-shelled heart will answer

It’s easier to control my daughter’s sweet cravings, my partner’s dissenting opinions, my Mother’s attitude, patients’ diagnoses, future events, public opinions of me than to feel the fear inside. Fear is messy, uncontrollable, a ticking time bomb about to explode, obliterating all traces and notions of Me.

If you could feel fear and deeply listen, what would it say? What does it need? Does it need safety, kindness, understanding, love, acceptance, forgiveness? Who or what would you find standing behind fear?

Ajahn Chah says, “If you let go a little you a will have a little peace; if you let go a lot you will have a lot of peace; if you let go completely you will have complete peace.”

When I let go a little, I hear what fear needs. When I let go a lot, I see compassion and faith standing behind fear. When I let go completely, a conch-shelled heart whispers secrets of the sea.

No wave of experience defines a whole ocean of loving presence.

Learning to Stay

9/28/2017

Life supports us, gently turning our heads towards beauty when we are looking elsewhere. It also challenges us because it knows we are ready to rise to the occasion. Then why do we leave, looking for paradise somewhere else?

The urge to fight, flee, or freeze during difficult times is strong, biological, rehearsed from past experiences. Why stay if you're only going to get hurt? It helps to deepen the inquiry here. Is the threat real, or perceived? If perceived, do you have the physical, emotional, and spiritual support you need to stay?

Like many of you reading this, I have certain experiences I'd rather bypass. A patient with a laundry list of demands I don't have time to wash, dry, fold and iron. A tug of war conversation where I want to win and sustain minimal abrasions from the fight. A concern for a loved one or myself that feels like a nuclear threat rather than an opportunity for growth. Waking up from dreams that promote problems instead of peace.

So why learn to stay? According to a positive psychology article, the benefits of mindfulness are many, including:

-Decreased stress and psychological distress in adults and employees
-Enhanced mental health and functioning
-Increased emotion regulation and self-control
-Decreased anxiety, depression, worry, and rumination
-Reduced incidence of problem drinking and symptoms associated with problem drinking
-Enhanced academic achievement in students, due to improved ability to focus and improved attention
-Improved social and relational skills
-Reduction in aggression and problem behaviors in children
-Reduced symptoms of burnout in employees
-Decrease in turnover and turnover intentions at work
-Enhanced job performance
-Increased ability to cope with bullying
-Enhanced resilience in children

Though I appreciate the research, I trust my experience above all else. In addition to the benefits listed above, mindfulness has brought me to the greatest love I've ever known, the sweetest silence befriending me, freedom to fly beyond old stories and settings, a deep-rooted trust in where I'm standing.

I have this friend called Silence
always watching, always listening,
offering Kleenex to catch
sniffles and tears
or high fives and knowing smiles
to celebrate awareness-
a kind om on the inbreath,
a grounded shanti on the outbreath,
meeting whatever comes
with a deep bow,
trusting the messenger
to heal me.

I still get angry, sad, scared. I still have doubts. But I’m learning to stay, trusting the messenger to heal me. Pema Chödrön writes, “This very moment is the perfect teacher, and, lucky for us, it’s with us wherever we are.”

May we all learn to stay. May we all have the support we need to trust this moment as the perfect teacher.

Reflections on Wise Effort

9/9/2017

Wave of Creativity by Susan Card

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!

Remembering

6/24/2017

This moment is so vast from here to there,
horizon not yet swallowing the sun
or releasing the moon till you
let go of your tightly held fists.
The sand slips through anyway.

Breathe, Dear One, breathe.
Feel the tides turn in your belly,
the ocean air in your breath.
Do you hear the sound of seashells
calling you back home to yourself?

Out here you are not deficient
or famous, cruel or kind,
but a wave of pure presence
clearing the slate of false inscriptions
for another possibility.

When you leave Here, please
carry True Nature with you.

At the water’s edge or in the woods, singing or dancing, playing an instrument or painting, meditating or engaging in mindful movement, being reflected by loved ones or reflecting in silence, running or writing, presence is a present you gift yourself to remember True Nature. It’s how we thin the protective armoring, share vulnerability, and begin to see ourselves in each other.

"It's Messy at Best"

5/14/2017

I thought we would be friends forever. I thought we could overcome any obstacle of hurt. Maybe I was wrong.

A dear friend and I recently exchanged words that left us both feeling angry, stunned, and upset. I tried to bridge the gap of misunderstanding with acknowledgment of my contribution to the confusion. I also tried to respect her perspective without compromising my own. It was my idea of a peace offering. For her, it was a bomb that had sadly backfired. I was dangerous, and she didn’t want the enemy anywhere near her.

My thoughts would not stop trying to console me. They ranged from extremes of self-righteous positions blaming my friend, and inferior positions blaming myself for my heartlessness. Judging us both was painful, so painful, that I longed to think my way out if this tangle. What Buddhist practice could help me unravel this confusion? Was it the three characteristics of existence, the Four Noble Truths, the Eightfold Path, understanding of the Middle Way, or something else?

The harder I tried to understand, the tenser I got. During a weary morning sit, a voice reminded me to let go, surrender, and relax the resistance. That is the moment I began to heal with an embodied presence as opposed to a spiritual bypass. Over the next few days, I reached out to Sangha to help me process what happened. The above Buddhist concepts were no longer mental gymnastics that weakened understanding, but strengthened it through R.A.I.N.

I know in my heart that seeds of understanding are being watered, nurtured, and sprouting in silence. I don’t know what will happen to the friendship. Emotions of anger, fear, and sadness still rise like tidal waves threatening to drown and submerge my clarity in cold darkness. But I will no longer say no to them. I’ve been here before – past lives, previous relationships, praying for freedom. The heart must be irritated to form pearls of wisdom.

Reconciliation Prayer

I’m tired of trying to change you,
rattling the bars around this heart prison
expecting you to have the key.
Where’s the sunlight, connection, and joy in that?
What if i am an open door allowing
you to come and go as you please,
not trying to cage you with small thoughts,
but spacious awareness that sees everything?
What if i get to know you, understand you?
Would i choose to stay?
Dear Universe, help us find each other,
eyes meeting in peaceful resolve
till the first words spoken are kind.

May I be patient with this process of learning. May I be kind and gentle with myself, not taking these exchanges so personally. May I remember my sincere wish to wake up and attract relationships of wise, mutual understanding.

May the Universe support your need to be heard and understood. May you be happy, well, safe, peaceful, and at ease. May our eyes meet in peaceful resolve till the first words spoken are kind.

May all relationships (family, friendships, acquaintances, strangers, perceived enemies, animals, plants) be held in wise reflection, wise exchange, wise effort, till the first words spoken are kind.

Sweet Surrender

6/11/2016

The Aura Of Buddha by Wayne Bonney

I wake up with throbbing sensations in each temple, feeling as if the walls are quickly closing in.
I wake up with belly muscles repeating somersaults as if they are training for a future Olympic event.
After all, I must be in tip top shape to perform.

Exploring these sensations from the inside out, I notice the mind trying to make sense of them.
What did I have for dinner last night? Maybe the cauliflower is causing too much gas.
Did I get enough sleep? Maybe I shouldn’t wake up so early to meditate.
Maybe I’m worried about future this or that.

Each time my attention wanders away from the body and breath, I gently note where I’ve been and try my best to return with kind awareness and warm curiosity. After all, it’s hard to stay present when I still believe there is some other person or place that will promise eternal peace!
Thank you, Kaveri for your patience. That’s why it’s called a practice, a path.

****

A spiritual path implies there is some place to get to, a final destination where you can rest because your debts are paid off, you’ve recovered fully from a devastating illness, you are finally vacationing in your dream place, or fill in the blank. You are always on the move, avoiding paths that are unpleasant, carefully choosing routes that produce pleasure time and time again.

What happens when you take off the heavy backpack of burden and lay it down beside you? What happens as you stop to rest, to take a refreshing drink of water, to eat and fully engage your five senses with your surroundings? What if you could feel the sun’s warmth mixed with cool sensations of a gentle breeze on your skin and on the inside? What if you could appreciate a panoramic view of your whole life and relax into the present moment of your timeline?

Every answer you seek can be found in the foreign tongues of body sensations. They are lost in translation when you try and think your way through the moment, when you try to rush towards a pleasurable answer and push away the painful ones. The process of returning to the present moment, resting and relaxing into it, and reflecting on insights as they arise is not an easy one. How can it be when you are taught to strive, to become someone and achieve something worthy of attention, of love?

There is a certain sweetness in surrendering to the physical manifestations of thoughts and emotions rather than trusting the constant hum inside your head of possible disasters lurking just around the corner. The only way to know this (not as a cognitive assignment, but as a marrow felt sense), is to practice again and again. Not practicing for an external trophy, but for internal freedom and more space to love what is.

My wish for you, for me, for everyone on this planet is that we can periodically rest in these moments of awareness. We don’t need to be anyone or do anything to experience deep and profound states of peace. My wish is that we all have opportunities to slow down, to let the mind settle long enough so we can sense the aura of our True Nature, the same aura surrounding Jesus Christ, Buddha, Krishna, and all sentient beings we have revered throughout space and time in every mystical tradition.

May we relax into any given moment.
May we have patience for the answers that lead us to wise action.
When we fall, may we trust Indra’s net to catch us.

Sweet Surrender – Song Meditation
(When you hear this song, imagine that you are not surrendering to any one person, place, or thing but to this moment and a loving awareness guiding you, always. If the song distracts you from your soul’s deepest longing, then let it go.)

(This blog post was inspired by a recent retreat with Dori Langevin and a series of talks on The Third Noble Truth and Nibbana by Tempel Smith.)

You Can Hear the Tide Turn

4/7/2016

“If you’re alert, you can hear the tide turn.”
-Suzuki Roshi

Walking back from Lappert’s in the hopes of burning off some Kauai Pie ice cream calories, I stop at a scenic overlook. My family is expecting me back at our condo soon, but my body will not move.

Reflecting back on a guided meditation from Tara Brach’s online course, Awakening Your Fearless Heart, I’m seeing a vast ocean striated with waves of jumbled thoughts. The waves are numerous, but each one eventually bows and breaks against the shores of loving presence.

I will never get rid of the waves. Though there is something quite peaceful about a surface of still water reflecting ease without ripples, it isn’t waters elemental nature. Water is meant to flow the path of least resistance. Waves are not meant to break until they can surrender all fear to shores of loving presence. Only then will they have the courage to return to an ocean of uncertainty, remembering and forgetting to repeat the cycle again, and again and again.

“If you’re alert, you can hear the tide turn.” It shifts our perspective. May we practice not only for ourselves, but for all beings everywhere without exception. When I forget, may you remember. When you forget, may I remember.

May the Practice Be Simple

2/20/2016

"Buddha in Blue" by Diana Altenburg

benevolent breath
flowing in and out
in sync with life
just as it is

There are so many wonderful meditation and yoga practices available for our spiritual growth. From resting in open awareness, repeating a mantra, transcendental meditation, or heart practices. From Ashtanga, Vinyasa flow, Iyengar, Kundalini, or Bikram yoga. There are also many practices I haven’t named here.

When life gets challenging, or when we simply want to step out of The Matrix for some deep rest, which one do we choose? How do we combine it with other practices that nurture us, like exercise, creative endeavors, time spent with loved ones, etc.? When a tornado threatens to uproot our sense of calm, which practice(s) do we reach for in our spiritual toolkit?

You may think this is a post about choosing the ‘right’ one. If you do, I’m sorry to disappoint you. If I knew the answer to that question, I’d probably be making bank and give up my day job! But seriously, where am I heading with these questions?

My thoughts can pop up like sequential, seductive firecrackers in the night sky. I can’t stay focused on one sparkling bouquet of lights long enough before another set of thoughts bursts open through the smoke of the first ones. I’m lost in all the colors without any concrete way to ground my being.

Meditation and yoga practice help to ground me. When the neurons in my mushy brain are rapidly firing scintillating messages of madness, and my body is all wound up, I remember my spiritual tool kit. What practice will clear the fireworks so I can see beyond them to the calming constellations that are constant? What practice will cut through all delusions of past and future and tether me to this moment?

In Dana Faulds poem, “Allow” she writes

When loss rips off the doors of
the heart, or sadness veils your
vision with despair, practice
becomes simply bearing the truth.

To simply bear the truth, we must let go of everything. Even practices that promise to fix and solve can be deceptive if we are trying to make something happen - grasping the pleasant, pushing away the unpleasant, being anywhere else but here. For me, the simplest way to bear the truth is to return to this river of benevolent breath, and notice it flowing in an out of the body. Nothing more, nothing less.

When this river of benevolent breath is allowed to flow through all the body’s landscapes, lush and barren alike, without judgment and with loving awareness, we learn to appreciate life just as it is. Our bodies are microcosms for a larger world. If we can stay with the river of breath flowing through it, even for a few seconds to minutes, we can learn to stay in any given situation without judgment and with loving awareness for a few seconds to minutes. With practice a, we can gradually stay a little longer each time.

In the choice to let go of your
known way of being, the whole
world is revealed to your new eyes.

In the choice to let go of our known way of being, more possibilities are revealed to us. We can make choices from present moment awareness rather than past hurt and regret or future worry. Our new eyes can appreciate the allies who support us along our path. We might even find space in our hearts for our enemies.

There are so many wonderful meditation and yoga practices available for our spiritual growth. Only you will know which one is right for you. When all of your protective shelters crumble, may the practice be simple. May the river of benevolent breath flow through you. May you fall in sync with life just as it is to be free.

Crossing a Bridge

1/9/2016

Image courtesy Stockazoo

Ultraviolet pink and purple clouds bear witness to my Metta prayers as I cross Dumbarton Bridge.

May I be patient with their process.
May I forgive their humanness.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit impatient and judgmental towards certain friends and patients. I see the way their thoughts and life patterns entangle them and sincerely wish for their freedom. The knots are constrictive, cutting off the delivery of vital oxygen and nutrients. Clipped wings hinder the possibility of a panoramic perspective.

But am I free? Are my assumptions about their situation accurate? Am I myself seeing the total picture clearly? Though I want them to be free, is it my place to control the speed or how they attain freedom?

My New Year’s intention is to continue cultivating loving presence for myself and others. I’m realizing now that a key ingredient to loving presence is clarity. I don’t need to save others. I’m not a superhero. Saving them would imply that they are somehow deficient, broken.

What would it mean to approach others without a fixed agenda of how things should go, to listen to their process with patience, to forgive their humanness for feeling lost, to forgive my own impatience and judgements?

Ultraviolet pink and purple clouds bear witness to my Metta prayers as I cross Dumbarton Bridge, as I cross over to a new plane of understanding. A quiet, spacious, loving presence reminds me that I don’t have to say or do so much to wish for their freedom, their wellbeing. I simply need to bear witness to my own stuck places so I can bear witness to them.

May I be patient with my process.
May I forgive my humanness.

Evidence

8/30/2015

What evidence do you have that your spiritual practice is working? We often look for perfection, for absolutes in practice. I should be mindful 24/7. I shouldn’t have said that. I should be present more often. Why is fear (or any other afflictive emotion) coming up again?

On Saturday I drove to Spirit Rock for a daylong on poetry and the Dharma. I left later than planned, and also found myself stuck in unexpected traffic. Taking a deep breath, I checked Google maps for an alternate route. As I left the jam, I felt the tension in my body dissipate, only to return when I tried to get on the same freeway a little further north and found the onramp blocked.

What the hell do I do now???

You know the feeling of fight-flight-freeze that arises in you like a volcano ready to explode at any given moment. Do I blame freeway construction? Do I blame myself for not checking traffic conditions and leaving earlier? Do I stay stuck in this storyline without an option to change it?

I noticed all of these thought options pounding against my skull with such violent force, begging for release. Then, I heard another voice.

Pull over, Kaveri. Just stop. Trust me on this one.

So I pulled over. I still felt the tension, but I also felt the breath of life flowing through me like summer rain after a prolonged drought. I knew how to find another route, to reach my destination and feel more at ease. It might take more time, but I sensed I would be OK.

*****

During the morning meditation, I felt a poem gestating within, aching to be born from the stillness. After the sound of the bell, I scribbled a few lines in my journal, confident they would take me somewhere.

As the day progressed, we read several poems on joy, sorrow, and grief together. The words in my journal felt like puny, flickering stars that paled in comparison to the light of these full moon poems. Who was I? I wasn’t a real poet. So what if I had a moment of insight on my drive here!

*****

I still say and do things that are unskillful. My mind still swings back and forth like a monkey on a trapeze clamoring for attention, anything to take me away from here. Fear still follows me everywhere like a shadow till I am willing to give it a name.

Maybe evidence that any given spiritual practice is working can’t be found in perfection but in vulnerability. Our tender hearts open as best as they can to experience. We reach out for support, reach in for a deep anchor of trust that will tether our sailing gypsy hearts to this moment.

Trust

It isn’t something you hold in your hand
a polished stone you skip across
the surface of Lake Doubt
to reach the other side

Trust is an open door
an invisible threshold you cross
without a groom to carry you
without a spare key

It’s holding your heart in stillness
as it fibrillates wildly with fear
until it syncs to the sound
of your breath and remembers

I am exactly where I need to be
I am safe in this understanding

(Note: The poem above isn’t the one I scribbled in my journal, but one that emerged from the stillness of falling asleep and waking up the next morning in the harbor of my bed:)